Finding Blair Waldorf
by InvisibleDisaster
Summary: AU: Five years after getting married to Chuck and promptly getting the marriage annulled after a mere month, Blair lives in a small town in Maine unbeknownst to the general public where she embraces single motherhood in secrecy. But the UES misses Queen B and thus sends out Dan, frustrated gossip columnist, to locate her and put her back into the spotlight. [Dan's not GG; Dair]
1. just a small town girl

_a/n: Hi &amp; welcome to this little Dair fic of mine I spontaneously ended up starting to write on my phone on Easter when I was suddenly struck by muse - badly. I'm not sure just how long this is going to turn out or how much time I'll have to update it since I currently lead a very busy life but I'll try to whenever I can if anyone ends up reading it (otherwise I'll just write it for myself tbh because it demands to be written down somehow haha) I'm probably also going to keep the chapters on the shorter side since in the past I was all for length and time skips and flashbacks all wrapped up in one chapter until it got horribly confusing for some readers so let's just see how this works out for me. The plan is to only focus on Dair shipwise but if you want me to get other characters/ships involved, I might be able to but I'm not making any promises (but nothing's going to mess with Dair unless I can make it work in flashbacks, guaranteed endgame for lyfe) There will also be flashbacks for sure to explain the current setting a little better. The title is a play on the Mia March novel 'Finding Colin Firth' because it inspired me to write this type of story after finishing it (although the plot of the novel really doesn't have much to do with the plot of this story other than it being quite focused on motherhood I suppose) and if anyone knows where I stole the small town that Blair now calls her home from, you're officially my favourite reader. This first chapter is just a really small teaser meant to slightly introduce you to Blair's life as a small town girl xoxo_

* * *

The ever-present breeze filled the streets of Cabot Cove, a little fisher's town in Maine, with the all too familiar scent of the sea Blair Waldorf had gotten so used to by now. It had been nearly five years since she had turned her back on her former Upper East Side life and settled down in the provincial small town - surely, to all of her friends' surprise if only she had disclosed her whereabouts to any members of the old crowd. But she hadn't. In fact, she hadn't seen any of them in years, a few unfortunate run-ins aside that had - sometimes only nearly - occurred when she was forced to return to the UES which thankfully didn't normally happen. The only one from her past who was still present in her new life was the most faithful soul a girl could ask for - her beloved Dorota, still willing to tend to her every need whenever she had the chance. Not that this chance arose all too often - Blair couldn't have made her give up on her life in New York and relocate her entire family just for her. Perhaps the old Blair Waldorf would have, Queen B, but this new version of her would never dare to put her needs first like that. Besides, Dorota had still fully been there for her when she needed her the most, without limitations whatsoever, and her gratefulness for that would never ebb away or even cease to amaze her; it would last her a lifetime.

Getting out of her silver Prius - yes, it had taken moving to a small town for Blair to learn how to drive but how she wished she would have taken lessons sooner - she hurried up the steps of Cabot Cove's daycare center, her heels clicking violently on the pavement. She couldn't be late again, could she? She had made sure to close the store five minutes early to ensure she wouldn't receive another complaint. Nothing compared to being scolded by a four-year-old that occasionally proved to be a little too much like her mother was at her age. Hurrying down the colorful halls decorated with various results of arts and crafts hours, the brunette found herself at the right door within seconds after entering the building, skipping a polite knock and instead pulling it open straight away, gaining herself a curious look from wide, deep brown eyes.  
"You're early." The small girl managed to state matter-of-factly as well as with a hint of surprise in her voice, her pink, heart-shaped lips morphing into a light pout.  
"Are you going to scold me for that now as well?" Blair asked with furrowed brows, her breathing still slightly unsteady due to her apparently unnecessary sprint.  
A brief moment of silence emerged before a wide smile took a hold of her daughter's face.  
"No. I'm glad you're here already." She declared cheerfully, still kneeling on the floor but immediately jumping to her feet to hurriedly say her goodbyes before she rushed to her mother's side and reached for her hand, happily accompanying her out of the building and to their car.  
"Are you going to be this early every day now?" The girl inquired curiously, a hopeful twinkle in her eyes.  
"You could come five minutes later, you know. Most moms do so that would be perfectly alright."  
"Well, I got tired of you constantly complaining about being the last one to be picked up, C." Blair stated dryly, tenderly squeezing her hand prior to continuing in a softer tone.  
"But we'll see. Maybe not this early. I'll have to try and find the right balance so please be patient with me." She requested sweetly, once again amazed by how articulate her daughter was at her young age - nothing uncommon for UES kids but that she had been able to convey her own good upbringing in a small town in the depths of New England without any professional help apart from Dorota visiting for a few days to a week per month as long as she was able to filled her with pride.

On the car ride home, Blair had been assured that her efforts were greatly appreciated but much to her dismay, mini-Blair used the opportunity to sugarcoat her most burning question once more.  
"I get it. I mean, the other mommies get support from the daddies." The voice she was hearing from the backseat was nearly sheepish and instantly, the brunette was glad that Dorota wasn't due in Cabot Cove until next week - she knew exactly what she would have said had she been present:  
"Miss Blair, don't you think it time you tell Miss Cynthia about Mr-"  
At this point, Blair had always managed to efficiently cut her off so far - Lord knows what might have happened otherwise.  
Most likely, it would have led to the most uncomfortable conversation Blair could possibly envision herself having with a four-year-old that was wise far beyond her years.  
A vision of nightmares if you asked her.  
"Well, good thing your mommy doesn't need support from anybody." She replied with determination, absolutely ready to drop the topic.  
"You won't be the last one to be picked up anymore, you can stop worrying about it, Cynthia."  
Cynthia nodded shyly, adjusting the hairband taming her brunette locks, her hair at least a shade darker than her mother's. She wasn't naive enough to not notice that she made Blair uncomfortable whenever she mentioned fathers in general but that discomfort sadly only sparked her curiosity, igniting a burning fire inside of her ever so often she had trouble extinguishing time and time again.

This time, the spark had started a wildfire that could not be put out, no matter how hard she tried, happenings at daycare having considerably contributed to the urgency of her question - she at least had to ask.  
"Mommy..." She began shyly, chewing on her lip as she struggled to muster the courage to go through with her inquiry.  
Blair's ears perked up, her eyes widened with a hint of hidden fear, already guessing that her daughter hadn't dropped the topic just yet or her tone wouldn't be as fearful. But she remained silent, patiently waiting for her to utter her request.  
"Mommy, do I even _have_ a daddy?" The quiet question lingered in the limited amount of air between them, weighing it down considerably. Blair swallowed. If only her daughter wasn't so goddamn clever. It was nearly impossible to get out of this question without a lie or an answer she wasn't exactly eager to give. Thus she found herself choosing her words wisely, her lips pursed during the process.  
"Of course you have a daddy." She replied eventually, cautiously. "Everyone does in one way or another."  
"Really?" Cynthia asked excitedly, nearly sounding surprised. "Are you sure about that?"  
"Oh yes, I sure am." Blair struggled to suppress a small snicker. "Even your birth certificate says so and I doubt legal documents of that kind aren't reliable sources."  
"Yeah? Oh wow..." Cynthia gasped, a hopeful smile catapulting the corners of her mouth skywards. "That's great. You know, next week, we're supposed to explore our family histories in daycare and when they mentioned we should know a bit about our families on both our mommy's and our daddy's side, I had to tell everyone I didn't have a daddy. Miss Bloomwood and Miss Fletcher seemed to believe me but the other kids wouldn't until they made them stop asking me about it." She explained, her excitement ostensibly decreasing with every sentence upon realizing that she hadn't quite crossed the finish line yet.  
Granted, her mother's confirmation that she did indeed have a father - in one way or another - was a leap forward but this didn't automatically mean she would also be willing to disclose his identity just like that. The prospect of being so close to scoring but then missing the goal by a few inches after all depressed the girl - and Blair couldn't help but notice, a familiar sadness, caused by motherly love and compassion, taking a hold of her as well.

Pulling into the driveway, Blair sighed, taking a deep breath. So this was it. The moment she had been dreading for nearly five years by now had finally come. Her biggest secret to date had caught up with her, relentlessly begging her to share it, at least some of it. Stopping the car, she turned around to face her daughter, a brave smile on her lips although her instincts told her to run and hide and not come out of her hiding spot for a couple of days.  
"C, you do have a daddy. And I suppose it's time I tell you about him if you really want me to."


	2. enter: lonely boy

_a/n: hi there lovely readers! c: I honestly wouldn't have expected this story to blow up like this in such a short time frame but naturally, I'm honoured and thankfully, I had already finished this chapter last night and the next one is half-finished as well so here I am supplying you with an update already. Time to introduce Dan before we reach the stage of actual Dair interactions in the next chapter (spoiler alert).  
Some of you have already started addressing Blair's baby daddy's identity and so far you all seem to be rooting for Dan because you have great taste. I'm really glad this has already been addressed because I plan on being annoying and keeping the father's identity hidden from the reader for a while. You'll find out when Dan finds out but there'll be hints along the way of course. Time frame wise, the odds of Dan being the father are relatively slim by the way but it's a possibility and Blair is certain when it comes to paternity this time around, bless her soul^^  
Now on to the actual story though - I hope Humphrey's life won't bore you, the next one will be the one where shit starts to go down. Thanks a lot for reading and all the feedback! (I'm aware of the run-on sentences btw, big bad habit of mine and reading lots of Virginia Woolf recently hasn't exactly been beneficial but it at least made me realize how annoying they can be so I'm working a bit harder on the issue for the upcoming chapter)  
Special Guest Star: Serena van der Woodsen xoxo_

* * *

The soothing sound of rhythmical typing filled the sparsely decorated and dimly lid 22nd floor office of Dan Humphrey, one of The New York Times most critically acclaimed journalists. Things had been going rosy for him the past years - when it came to his career at least. Working his way up had not posed a problem at all and at first, his job had been beyond exciting, a dream come true as cheesy as it sounded but the bliss wasn't meant to last. Formerly distracted from all nagging thoughts concerning new novels he could write Dan now found himself stuck in the dark abyss of routine, bored out of his mind with the petty stories he regularly got to report on. The Upper East Side's scandals appeared to become increasingly dull with every passing month but his connections to the former elite, in particular Serena van der Woodsen, the unofficial queen of scandal, kept him locked inside this cage of gossip articles, his boss convinced that he was the best guy for the job, much to his dismay.

A knock on the door interrupted him, already close to finishing the article he was currently working on, a not quite so shallow and dull piece for once. If he was supposed to start over from scratch due to the editor being mildly displeased with his style, his laptop would probably end up being smashed against the nearest wall and he would leave the building unemployed. Mentally bracing himself for what might be about to come, he tore his eyes from the screen, his line of sight wandering to his boss who was peeking his head inside his office. The look on his face both calmed and concerned him - his current article was safe but he had this glimmer in his eyes, the one he always had when he thought he had come up with a glorious story Dan should work on that would suck the life out of him and kill a dozen of his brain cells. If only he didn't need the money.  
"Humphrey, do you have a minute?" Mr Fusco requested, already wiggling his brows. Oh God, this story would be the end of him, he could feel it. Not expecting a reply, Fusco entered, making his way to the desk and taking a seat on the edge.  
"Listen Humphrey, this'll be great. Exactly your forte so I immediately had to think of you." Awesome. So it was just another gossip story he'd publish under a not so witty pseudonym.  
"Let me guess - Serena's latest excesses? An exclusive interview with the Bass imperium's latest mistress?" Dan asked lazily, struggling to hide the sarcasm in his voice.  
"Nope. Better. Remember Blair Waldorf? Because we hardly do. It's been five years since we've last reported on her and no, a staged Christmas dinner party photo we buy from a French magazine every year doesn't count. It's like she has vanished off the surface of Earth - and that's where you come in. Find her. Wherever she may be. If any of our reporters can, it has to be you. Give us a nice little 'where are they now' type of story. All your expenses will be covered, of course."

The last words hadn't even reached Dan who now appeared to be absentmindedly staring into space. His last interaction with Blair was, just like the last news reports on her, five years in the past. The last time he had seen her was strangely enough on her wedding night after her surprise wedding to no other than Chuck Bass - a wedding night the bride did not spend with the groom.  
Instead, Blair had spent the night in Brooklyn, having a panic attack of sorts at his doorstep and demanding he tell her if she had just made the biggest mistake of her life.  
His answer shouldn't be hard to guess.  
The next morning, she had disappeared before he had gotten up, just like that. Vanished into thin air, never to be seen or heard from again, the one time she had tried to call him but immediately hung up once he had picked up at the last ring aside.  
Two days after the mysterious call - none of his had been returned - it became public knowledge that Blair Waldorf's marriage to Charles Bass had been annulled. And that would remain the last New York based news there were about the 95 pounds of girly evil up until this day. Assumptions had been made about her having moved to France to represent Waldorf Designs there, staying with her father and Roman but nothing had ever been fully confirmed. Blair's location remained a mystery.  
A mystery Dan Humphrey didn't consider himself capable of solving.  
But for once, he had to agree with Fusco - if anyone could find her, it had to be him. It _should_ be him.  
"I'm not sure I can do it. Give me one week for research, then I'll let you know if I can." He finally replied and Fusco seemed to be ecstatic.  
Bless his rotten soul.

* * *

"Say, Serena, when was the last time you spoke to Blair?" Dan inquired as casually as humanly possible at his punctual 1 pm lunch with Serena to which she had to no one's surprise turned up fifteen minutes late.  
For some reason, even just mentioning Blair's name left a bitter taste on his tongue, his secret interview technique thus failing miserably. But luckily for him, you didn't have to be sly with Serena. She'd foolishly give you every answer your little heart desired as long as she had it.  
"Uhm, let me think..." Serena puffed her cheeks, looking as if steam was about to rise from her ears any minute now.  
"I think that was... Two years ago. Yeah, two years ago. I ran into her at her mother's atelier here and she told me she was living in France I think. Jet lag must have been why she looked so exhausted, very unlike Blair. I have yet to receive that invitation to her French chateau, though. Perhaps she simply forgot." The blonde shrugged, twirling a strand of her lavish locks around her pointer. "Why are you asking?"  
"Just out of curiosity." Dan mumbled innocently. "I mean, it just feels like she has vanished into thin air. I, for one, haven't heard from her in five years."  
"Well, it's not like she ever _voluntarily_ contacts _me_ either." Serena frowned. "Actually, she seemed pretty uncomfortable when I ran into her back then. As if she didn't want to see me. Maybe she's just had it with us and the Upper East Side in general. I don't even know what happened between her and Chuck but I could imagine that's why she just left like that. Chuck always claims she simply changed her mind about them and left him but I don't know - that just doesn't sound like Blair, don't you think?" With her brows furrowed, she eyed Dan with childlike curiosity.  
"I wouldn't know. In fact, I'm certain you know what's like Blair and what's unlike Blair a lot better than me." He noted dryly, clearing his throat. He had believed Blair Waldorf to be many things during their acquaintance, ranging from rabid Queen Bitch to culture-appreciating friend to star-crossed lover. What they meant to each other was ever-changing but none of it was built to last. In the end, this instability left Dan torn about what to think of her, which words coming out of her mouth to even believe anymore, which picture of her he had so vividly painted in his mind to frame and keep in good memory. By now, Blair was nothing more than a distant, faded memory and he would have been very content to keep it this way - if only Fusco wasn't trying to force this crap article upon him.

The rest of their fruitless lunch passed just like their countless lunches prior to this one had. Small talk that required them to take small sips from various alcoholic beverages time and time again in order to be kept at a consistent level, mostly silence once the main course arrived, Dan skipping dessert. The whole ordeal was topped off by the usual van der Woodsen proposal that they should really get together again sometime and perhaps they could go to one club or other this week but as per usual, the proposal was followed by the typical Humphrey rejection. It wasn't that he didn't like Serena or that he meant to be rude for that matter. Not at all. Dan genuinely liked her and he was sure he always would but his former romantic feelings for her that had displayed such extraordinary endurance throughout the years had once and for all been replaced by purely platonic liking. Irrevocably.  
But even if there was still a chance that there could be more between them again, he didn't even have the time for this now. He didn't even have the time for distraction in even the mildest form.  
Now that Serena had proven to be a relatively useless source – although he was sure he could work parts of her tales into his article should he be able to write it – he had to focus on the most important task a decent journalist had to tackle: proper research.  
Now, where to start? France. The rumoured location.  
Before he had even opened his laptop Dan would have willingly sworn that he would not be able to come up with anything of value as long as he was taking that route but he at least had to look, for proper research's sake.

Ten wasted minutes later and France could be crossed of the list of possibilities. Oh, what great surprise. The man rolled his eyes at the screen. Nothing but the same old Christmas photos they had paid far too much money for already. Too bad France was his only lead. Even though he had been certain it was a lead that would lead nowhere, a small part of him had hoped he was wrong.  
Not really because of the article. Hell, he didn't even _want_ to be working on this petty article.  
But truly knowing where Blair was residing and Queen B reigning nowadays… quite frankly, he would have liked that.

This wasn't the time to get emotional, though.  
Shaking off the sappy thoughts, Dan buried his fingers in his dark curls, mentally repeating every single word that had bubbled out of Serena concerning her last interaction with Blair, scanning her illustrations for even the slightest hint.  
There it was. Waldorf Designs. Perhaps she did in fact represent it – but not in France.  
Okay, this couldn't be all too hard to figure out. After all, Waldorf Designs was rather exclusive as far as he was informed and certainly his sister had to be a trustworthy source there.  
Actually, couldn't he just call – no, he shouldn't. Randomly calling Jenny to inquire about Blair Waldorf would feel awfully wrong. Besides, she was most likely only going to be able to confirm what he already knew – no France for B. Time for more research. Excessive research this time.

This time, ten minutes didn't suffice. Not even an hour sufficed.  
Once he was nearing the two hour mark however, by now lazily scrolling through a mountain of results unlikely to be informative in the least, he finally found himself successful by clicking the website of a small boutique in an even smaller town - at the coast of Maine, apparently?  
If he was being honest, it was too early to consider it a full blown success just yet but even the mere façade of the store could have stepped out of an Audrey Hepburn movie - it just _screamed _Blair Waldorf.  
And then he caught sight of it, in spite of the torturously small print.  
_Owner: B. Waldorf.  
Bingo.  
_All signs pointed to a Blair sighting only being possible in Cabot Cove, ME. Of all the places he had expected her to be, this one hadn't made the list. Actually, he hadn't even been aware of this town's existence until now. Here was to praying it wouldn't be hard to find if one was to go on a spontaneous road trip.


	3. a blast from the past

_a/n: And I'm back with another chapter, woot woot. I'm a bit behind schedule due to a lovely migraine so you might have to wait on the next chapter a bit longer but at least this one's a bit longer than the others to slightly make up for that - and it's time for the first Dair encounter, as promised.  
Also, I'm really glad that Vanessa has been pointed out because I'm awful and would have indeed forgotten about her, oops. But that review has actually supplied me with inspiration that might already pop up in the next chapter - since Dan obviously isn't exactly close with Serena anymore, I feel like he deserves another female friend from the past.  
Now, I hope this still makes sense since I had to finish it once said migraine let me. There are already a few honourable mentions of Blair's life the past five years in here but there will definitely be more of that in the future (plus guaranteed UES flashbacks to explain how she even ended up here)  
Hope you'll enjoy it, and as always, thanks for reading, favouring, following and reviewing c:  
Special Guest Appearance by everyone's darling Dorota xoxo_

* * *

Yesterday evening, the light blue colonial style home at the end of Orchard Street had been filled with stories of Blair's UES past for the first time ever – but only the ones that could barely even be rated PG, naturally.  
In hindsight, promoting Cynthia's birth certificate as a reliable source of proof for her father's identity might not have been the safest bet.  
How she had managed to supress the memory of those ugly, thick letters spelling out the word _allegedly _in brackets behind her daughter's biological father's name was a mystery to her but she had managed to do so quite successfully.  
God, how she had fought the hospital stuff to even list his name in spite of the lack of a signed Acknowledgement of Paternity – kind of hard to get your hands on one of those if you didn't inform your baby daddy about being a baby daddy in the first place.  
All the painkillers she had been on that night were to blame for her memory being fuzzy but she earnestly couldn't remember how she had succeeded. In the end, her parents had probably bribed the staff.  
Actually, she wasn't certain if she couldn't get into legal trouble because of this highly questionable form of listing him. Perhaps that meant she'd have to tell him sooner or later. Maybe once the time came where Cynthia would require plenty of legal documents. Oh, happy days. She couldn't even bring herself to think about this now.  
With every passing birthday her daughter had gotten to celebrate, the possibility of telling him seemed to have been driven further away from her, slowly but surely turning into an impossibility. Who knew, perhaps she'd never have to tell him. Bribing someone was still the most effective way of getting what you want the last time she checked. A girl could dream.

Thankfully, the _allegedly_ hadn't bothered Cynthia in the least. Simply getting a name had been consoling enough for the girl and when her mother kept last night's promise of trying to find photographs to show her and promptly presented them to her the next morning, her heart skipped a beat.  
Looking over her daughter's shoulder, Blair sighed quietly, fixing C's hair up into a loose bun while the girl was still preoccupied with the photos.  
"I almost forgot that you look just like him." She mumbled once her work was finished, kissing the top of her head.  
"Not _just_." Cynthia was quick to protest. "I've got your nose." She corrected her, pointing at a picture showing Blair taken six years ago.  
"Yeah, but that's just about it." Her mother laughed, shaking her head. "That and my love for hairbands, that's enough anyway."  
Stepping away to shoulder her purse, she flashed a kind smile at Dorota who was now entering the kitchen. Surprisingly, the faithful soul had arrived last night shortly after Cynthia's bed time, a week early, and promised to stay this week as well as the following – she really was an angel disguised as a maid. Although she wasn't actually Blair's maid anymore. No uniform was involved whatsoever because Blair didn't want to stand out in a town lacking maids entirely but the sight of Dorota in casual clothing still weirded her out.  
Needless to say Dorota was wallowing in pride over B finally having fessed up to her daughter. The relief of no longer being the only one aware of C's father's identity other than her mother – no other member of the Waldorf family knew in spite of having to fight for the name on the birth certificate – was immense.  
"Miss Blair, I am so happy you told Miss Cynthia about Mister-"  
"Yes, thank you Dorota, we don't need to mention his name 24/7 now." Blair cut her off, softly however. "But you were right all along. It was the right thing to do."

C's eyes remained fixed on the photographic proof of her heritage throughout the adults' conversation but eventually, her brows knit.  
"Mom, why do you two look like you're mad at each other most of the time?" She asked in confusion.  
Chewing on her bottom lip, Blair attempted to come up with a good, sugar-coated explanation but eventually settled for the truth.  
"Because we were, I guess. At least he annoyed me a lot. But that's just the way relationships are, sweetie. Guys will annoy you and eventually they'll leave you or you'll leave them and you'll realize that men are useless creatures nobody really needs in their lives."  
"But Miss Blair!" Dorota gasped, vehemently shaking her head as she sat down across from the youngest member of the Waldorf household. "Don't tell Miss Cynthia such things that are not truth."  
"Only that they are in fact the truth, Dorota. She'll find out for herself soon enough." Blair replied firmly, finally succeeding at finding her car keys in search of which she had been rummaging through her purse all the while. "Now, I really have to get going. You two have a wonderful time until I come back for lunch." Kissing her daughter's cheek, Blair lingered at the table for another moment before she made her way to the door, addressing Dorota once more in passing: "Don't tell her any crazy stories, she's heard enough last night."

* * *

This trip ought to be worth it. After a nine-hour-drive, Dan Humphrey had finally reached his destination: Cabot Cove, Maine. He could have flown, of course, but that would have included disclosing the location where he believed Miss Waldorf to be to his boss already and some unexplainable force kept him from doing just that. Instead, he had asked for gas money and off he went.  
Arriving late last night had kept him from doing any exploring that same day but thankfully, he had gotten a room at a charming little inn near the sea that once again reminded him of how absurd he thought it was that Blair was supposed to live _here_ of all places. Did she even_ like_ charming little inns? The harsh breeze greeting you with the salty scent of the sea whenever you stepped outside? The lack of designer boutiques? He simply couldn't see it. Instead, the unsettling suspicion that he might have taken this road trip unavailingly grew with every passing minute in which he didn't receive a sign from her, making sleep seem out of reach.  
He should be well rested, though. Sleep early, sleep tight, rise early and resume his mission. The receptionist, a lovely elderly lady that he wished could be his grandma, had already been able to inform him where he could find Blair's – or well, B. Waldorf's – boutique, The B Hive. Come on, _The B Hive?_ A boutique with that name and a Holly Golightly memorial logo could not be run by any other B. Waldorf than Blair Cornelia Waldorf, the former ruler of Constance and Audrey Hepburn devotee he was looking for.

* * *

At nine o'clock sharp, that exact Blair Cornelia Waldorf unlocked the front entrance to her little boutique _The B Hive_. It was located a little too closely to the docks for her liking but by now, after three and a half years of successful small business ownership, she had gotten used to the sound and soft swaying of the waves as well as the salty scent of the sea.  
It wasn't as pleasant as she found it to be at the Rivera but she had begun to find comfort in it.  
Cabot Cove now felt like home to her, the memory of her former Upper East Side life only leaving a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Nonetheless, her mind wandered back to her socialite past once she had prepared the shop for the day, now left to patiently wait on possible customers.  
All these years, she had been busy trying to suppress most of her memories in order to open herself for new ones and although she had liked to believe she was succeeding, you could probably say she failed miserably at best.  
Granted, she had made new memories but mostly thanks to the fact that she had a daughter to raise on her own. She had made new friends but she hadn't been able to date again.  
Sure, she had agreed to a few when she had been asked out and her friends had forced her onto some questionable blind dates she'd much rather pretend never happened but none of them led to anything and she was very well aware that she was fully responsible for that.  
Blair Waldorf, Queen Bee turned Bitter Spinster.

But one had to cut her some slack.  
Running from your old life and leaving so many matters unresolved, living with so many secrets she was desperately trying to shield from her past's view didn't making it easy for you to just forget about it.  
Not that she made it easy for herself either.  
She was subscripted to The New York Times for God's sake. Not exactly a leap forward in her process of forgetting New York.  
In fact, she might be a little too informed about her former clique's life. She knew exactly which gala Serena and Nate had recently attended, either together or separately. She knew exactly how many of Chuck's mistresses had been caught by the paparazzi last year.  
Good for him, at least Chuck Bass was still doing what he did best - Being Chuck Bass.  
Serena as well.  
She was also aware of the fact that Dan worked for it. Depending on her mood, she'd either skip his articles completely or soak up every single word he'd written even though most of the topics he had to cover were far below his potential. Not to mention she was nearly certain they made him write all those gossip articles on Serena and the others as well_.  
By Davina Horowitz?_ Oh, _please._  
Obviously, that was nothing but a pseudonym and not a very good one either. Those hadn't even been his forte in his tell-all novel.

As she claimed her spot behind the register - her employee Lola should finish arranging those damned shirts that just wouldn't stay wrinkle-free - her mind wandered back to a question that wouldn't leave her be anymore since last night: Why exactly had she wanted the father's name to be on the birth certificate so badly?  
Everything would be far easier otherwise.  
Actually, she might never have to tell him in that case as was the plan.  
_So why, for fuck's sake?_  
She mentally scolded herself for her sentimental stupidity.

Perhaps she had wanted it because it was all she had left of him in her new small town life. There, sentimental stupidity. Disgusting.  
Or her conscience had wanted her to have a reason to contact him and tell him. As if that was a great idea once you'd had the baby. Every decent pregnant woman told the father before she was even showing so why couldn't she have just done that? Well, she had sort of considered it. Sort of. Sighing quietly, she lazily began to scroll through her unanswered emails. She would just continue to pretend she wanted a name there because she didn't want to look like a slut who didn't even know who the father of her own child was.  
If only a customer would come in and distract her but they never seemed to come before ten – why exactly was she even opening at nine then? Perhaps she should reconsider her opening hours. Noted.  
God, her mother was going to be the death of her. No, of course she _wasn't _going to come to her stupid UES dinner party with a few investors and a ton of socialites –including Serena and Chuck - she knew all too well, let alone bring Cynthia. The last thing she wanted for her child was to be in the same room with Chuck Bass. That would be even worse than just her being in the same room with Chuck Bass. Or else she wouldn't have ran off the moment she found out she was having a baby, right, Eleanor? Would that woman _ever_ learn?

Just about to type a passive aggressive reply, she found herself being released by the sound of the old-fashioned bell, signalling that someone had entered the store.  
_Yes, a customer. Score.  
_However, as she tore her eyes from her phone's screen, she could already tell she wouldn't be selling anything. Just some guy with horrible fashion sense who was probably a lost tourist. Yawn.  
"We neither sell men's clothing nor lingerie so if you're looking for a present your girlfriend won't loathe, I recommend a cashmere scarf." She informed him languidly, her eyes again glued to the screen. Once they found out there was no degrading lingerie they could bless their poor girlfriends with, they usually left. Looked like she'd have to deal with her mother now after all.  
"Actually, that's not at all what I'm looking for." _Or not._ She would recognize that voice anywhere, possibly even in her sleep. Not to mention the unnerving Brooklyn accent. This had to be some sort of nightmare. Hadn't she dealt with her past enough to last her a lifetime last night? She certainly didn't need an actual person from it to just burst into her new small town life now.  
Ever since she had moved here, she had mentally established a ranking of whom of her past acquaintances she least wanted to see here:  
Serena was on the last spot. She wouldn't be that bad but sometimes she had trouble keeping her big mouth shut.  
Same for Nate, only that he could be trusted even less with a major secret which gained him the spot right above S.  
Chuck and Dan got to share pole position. Both would be a nightmare come true and now one of those nightmares actually was coming true. Couldn't she just ignore him and pretend he didn't exist? Maybe he'd take the hint and vanish into thin air without another word. But when had he _ever_ taken a hint?

"Humphrey." Her voice was void of emotion as she finally looked up once and for all, eyeing him as if she had a hard time recognizing him – and quite frankly, she did. Had he ever looked this awful before? Not that she could remember. Whoever told him it was a good idea to join the club of the bearded gentlemen.  
"Did you come all the way to Maine to show me that you've nearly mastered the art of turning yourself into a grizzly bear?"  
He rolled his eyes before he replied, as he did. "Really, Waldorf? This is how you're going to greet me after five years? I expected you to at least have the decency to pretend that you missed me."  
"Then you must have completely forgotten what I'm like at some point during those five years." Blair tilted her head to the side, beyond grateful that she had regained her cool so quickly. Her resting bitch face had gotten a little too much rest over the past few years perhaps but thankfully she still had it mastered. "But I see that congratulations are in order – I'm really happy for you. You've successfully turned yourself into a stereotypical Williamsburg hipster. The only thing you're still lacking is the beanie. Now everyone can spot your Brooklyn heritage the moment they lay eyes on you."  
"Okay, you really have to stop hating on the beard. There's nothing wrong with the beard. It's a great beard. It's not even a hipster beard." Dan scoffed sarcastically. "Besides, I've ran into at least three guys sporting the exact same look on the way here and I don't recall this being Williamsburg."  
"That's because they're fishermen, Dan. They're allowed to be a part of the bearded crowd." Blair's palm was pressed to her forehead. Leave it to Humphrey to supply her with a migraine in a matter of seconds. "At least you're not wearing one of your awful flannels or people on the streets would mistake you for one. Or is that why you're here? Are you looking to wave The New York Times goodbye and settle down as a fisherman? Don't do it. The look doesn't suit you."  
Seriously, though. Why on earth was he here, bothering her on what could have been such a fine day?  
"I'm not and I'm not here to receive style recommendations from your side either. Actually, I'm just wondering what the hell Blair Waldorf is doing in a town like this, flooded with fishermen whose looks she despises?" He asked coolly, nearly slyly.  
And she didn't have an answer prepared for this. Oh shit. At least there was no excuse she could think of he'd actually believe. If only this was Nate she was dealing with.  
Thus, the brunette simply shrugged.  
"I needed a change and am just going where life takes me for once. Now, if you'd excuse me, I have work to do."  
Sure she did, with no one else even in the shop other than them. Aced it.  
Dan eyed her in complete silence for a moment, making her feel as if he was attempting to read her mind – horribly uncomfortable. Okay, seriously, couldn't he just leave it at that and leave? Please?

The bell rang again and Blair could hardly believe her luck as she watched Lola stomp in, ten minutes early. For that alone, she deserved a raise. Triumphantly motioning to the girl to stress her point, she struggled not to grin at him. "If you don't mind."  
Now Humphrey just looked annoyed but definitely willing to give in. Thank God. Lola was definitely getting that raise.  
"I see. Maybe you'd be willing to tell me over lunch? Or we could at least catch up, like estranged friends who haven't heard from each other in five years are supposed to." This was certainly the last straw he was clinging onto; she could hear it in his voice. And her answer was going to be _oh hell no._  
Or well, it would have been, if only her mouth had obeyed her brain's orders.  
"Come back at noon and only if you're up for seafood because unless you're willing to shave in the meantime, I do not want to be seen with you at any decent restaurant. "  
This time, it was Dan who was struggling not to grin. "Whatever you say, Waldorf. 12 pm sharp?"  
"12 pm sharp. Now leave, Humphrey. I wasn't joking when I said I had work to do."  
"Of course you weren't." Shaking his head, Dan finally turned to leave. "Don't stand me up, Waldorf."  
"Oh, Humphrey, I would never." She chirped sweetly, visibly relaxing once the bell chimed again, serving as audible proof that he had left. Finally, the nightmare was over. Only to resume at noon. How could she have been stupid enough to agree to lunch? This was going to be the end of her.  
Even worse, she'd have to tell Dorota about this. Wonderful. Someone please put her out of her misery.


	4. friendly lunch (dates) and other ordeals

_a/n: hello there lovelies! As I had feared, this chapter took me a bit longer but here it finally is. I'm not perfectly pleased with it to be honest, especially the beginning which I still wrote feeling rather poorly but I tried, welp. As promised, Vanessa has been brought into it - and I completely agree, neither S or N have ever really been good friends for Dan. The only Upper East Sider he really had anything in common with was Blair and since they obviously haven't stayed in contact the past years, Vanessa had to pop up, at least through a phone call (and probably tremendously out of character, my apologizes, I hardly remember her oops)  
Apparently everyone's still rooting for Dan to be the father, still a very tasteful bunch. I knew who the father was before I even started writing so you wouldn't be influencing me or anything in case I decided Chuck should be the father but it's still exciting to see that no one's rooting for Chuck in the least - Dan could be a decent stepfather after all, he's pretty decent at raising kids that aren't his, aha.  
Also, someone asked me to please not get Chuck involved - no worries, Chuck will not actually get involved in the story's presence. He'll only appear in flashbacks concerning Blair's departure from the UES - she had to tell her husband she was leaving him after all.  
(Also, please just mentally insert them ordering any dish you want, I'm not exactly the biggest fan of various foods in general so I thought I'd not try to pick out some weird seafood dish my vegetarian self is completely clueless about and leave it up to your imagination instead bahah)  
I doubt I'll be able to post prior to Sunday but I'll try my best to have enough material by then to at least have one chapter up.  
Now, I hope you'll find this to be an enjoyable read anyway &amp; once again, kudos to everyone reading, following, favouring &amp; especially reviewing this! You are my inspiration *Rock Hudson singing voice*  
Special (Vocal) Guest Appearances by Dorota &amp; Vanessa xoxo  
_

* * *

Moments after the door had flown shut behind one of her living nightmares, Lola's voice made Blair snap out of her treacherous thoughts that had fully intended to push her to the brink of a panic attack.  
"Who _was_ that?" The redhead asked in her usual, a little too high pitched tone, wiggling her brows suggestively as she did whenever she had spotted a guy she found at least somewhat attractive. Trashy. Sometimes she reminded her of a small town version of Serena.  
"An old acquaintance from New York." Blair shrugged dismissively. _Which doesn't mean you're allowed to sink your claws into him,_ she mentally added.  
"An acquaintance? What's that supposed to mean?" Lola frowned. "Like, just a friend or have you done it?"  
"A couple of times perhaps." Blair stated as vaguely as possible, simultaneously annoyed by her employee's nosiness but also relieved – she knew exactly the girl never went after _'used'_ guys as she liked to call them. "Now enough about my New York flings. Please show those shirts your undivided attention while I make a private phone call." She ordered with a fake sweetness, already scrolling through her contacts as Lola rolled her eyes but obeyed. Bless her for always giving her so many reasons to forget about that raise after all.

Dorota had picked up at the second ring, sounding mildly alarmed.

"Miss Blair, everything alright?"

"Everything's fine, Dorota. Or well, sort of." The brunette added quietly. "I just called to say I won't be able to make it for lunch." Very much in need of another deep breath before she continued, she cut Dorota off in the middle of another dramatic expression of concerns.  
"Humphrey's here."

"And they're going on a lunch date." Lola chimed in through the medium of sing-song. Definitely no raise for her, ever.

"It's not a date, it's _lunch._ I would never go on a date with someone who finds such an awful abomination of a beard aesthetic." Blair frowned, shaking her head in disgust. Seeing Dan had apparently taken her right back to her old bitchy UES self – who would have thought it would be that easy?

Still, Lola dared to protest. "I like the beard." She pouted, folding the last shirt.

"That just goes to show you have no taste in men whatsoever. Now go work in the back or something. Shoo."  
The redhead obeyed without displaying even the faintest signs of motivation.  
"Now, Dorota, just to make myself clear: you are not to leave the house with Cynthia today."

"But Miss Blair-"

"Under no circumstances unless one of you is dying, understood? I do not want her to run into Humphrey. The sight of that beard would traumatize her anyway." God, that beard would give her actual nightmares. If he wasn't willing to shave, this would be the last lunch they'd ever share. "Not to mention he's working for The New York Times. The last thing I need is me plastered all over the news again, let alone my daughter."

"But Miss Blair, I'm sure Mister Dan wouldn't-" Why did she even still see any use in protesting? Maybe not wearing that maid uniform anymore had supplied her with a little too much confidence.

"No more 'buts', Dorota, that is it. I've made my decision and you're going to respect it, alright?" Blair commanded sharply, her teeth gritted. "I'll be back once the shop closes. Maybe we'll close early, actually. We'll see. Just tell C an unexpected delivery came or something."

Without further ado, she hung up. Dorota of all people, the keeper of her secret, should really get it but apparently her brain had shrunk to the size of a grape during their time apart. Did she really deserve to be surrounded by incompetent idiots?  
At least she was now in exactly the right mood to decline her mother's dinner party invitation - with delight.

* * *

At the other end of the road, Dan was strolling around aimlessly, clueless about how to kill two hours in this one horse town. As far as he was informed, there wasn't even a single Starbucks around - no surprise Blair had to let out all of her hipster hatred on him.  
This town was definitely overpopulated with diners, though. You'd pass one in just about every other street.  
Desperately, he tried to picture Blair spending her lunch break at her favourite Cabot Cove diner but failed miserably.  
Nothing about this town seemed to even come close to meeting her high standards, yet she must have been living here for years, if not the full five. Unbelievable.

Just about to enter one of the diners for a cup of coffee to see if there was anything Blair could possibly consider charming about them, his phone rang.  
If this was Fusco begging to be updated on how the story was going, his phone might just end up swimming with the fishes.

Luckily, it wasn't. In fact, this call might not even be getting on his nerves.

"Vanessa." He stated in greeting, already knowing that she would immediately supply him with the reason for her call.

"Dan. You and me. Friday night. The thing you got two tickets for. Are you excited? Of course you are. Tell me just how excited you are." Vanessa murmured mysteriously, much like a fortune teller on the other line.

For a moment, he was left speechless. The thing he got...? _Ooh. Right. The thing._ The thing which was now a thing he'd have to miss out on.  
"Hold on - you're in New York?" He asked in disbelief, again very well aware of the fact that she had cancelled on him due to 'scheduling conflicts' as she liked to call them.

"_Duh._ Of course I am, Dan. Sometimes you're so slow, you're making it really hard for other people to believe you're actually as smart as you like to think you are." Vanessa rolled her eyes, then knit her brows in realization. "Wait. You're not in New York. Where are you?"

"I'm in Maine, actually." Dan admitted quietly. "Cabot Cove."

"Never heard of it so what could you possibly want there?" Vanessa began but didn't give him an opportunity to explain himself. "Wait, I know what you're going to say. _It's because of work, Vanessa, blahblahblah. _Why would The New York Times want to send you to a town no one has ever heard of, in Maine of all places?"

A sigh could be heard before he replied. Great, now he'd have to tell her. He could never successfully keep a secret from her.  
"Blair Waldorf happens to live in this town in Maine no one has ever heard of. Don't worry, I wouldn't have believed it either had I not seen her with my own eyes a few minutes ago."

For a moment, there was silence on the other line. Vanessa's recovery was quick, however, her tone cautious as she addressed him again.  
"Daniel, you're not still hung up on Blair Waldorf, of all girls you could possibly score, are you?"

His reply came nearly a little too quickly.  
"_What?_ Of course _not._ Vanessa, _come on_."

"Oh, don't even _try_ to deny it, Dan. You've basically just proven that you are. Do you really want to go through all of this again? Only for her to eventually leave you for Chuck Bass or the biggest douchebag of Cabot Cove or whatever that town's called? Do you, Dan? Do you really?"

So much for this conversation not getting on his nerves.  
"Vanessa, seriously, you're being ridiculous right now. In no way am I looking to get back with Blair Waldorf. We're just having a friendly lunch, that's all."

Vanessa groaned in exasperation. "Sure, _friendly lunch_. Dan, you need to stop being so infatuated with her. She's no good for you." She scoffed.

"I'm not infatuated. When was I ever-"

Instantly, he found himself getting cut off. "How about the time you took her in on her wedding night?"

Granted, she may have a point there. But that happened five years ago. Five years were a long time. He was absolutely over Blair. Once and for all.  
"Well, was I supposed to just leave her crying on my doorstep?"

Finally, silence. Perhaps she had given up for good.  
Clearing her throat, Vanessa suddenly sounded like she had been struck by the realization of the century.  
"Dan, are you still giving that ugly beard a try? Has it grown since I've last seen you?"

Really now? The beard again? Everyone just needed to stop hating on it, immediately.  
"Perhaps a little." He admitted meekly.

"Oh God. She hates it, am I right?"

"Considering she thinks I look like the stereotypical Williamsburg hipster or a fisherman, I suppose you could say that."

Another pause, followed by a far too confident Vanessa once more speaking her mind although it was completely uncalled for. He could almost hear the grin in her voice as she chirped, "Good. In that case she won't jump your bones. Or let you jump hers for that matter," down the line.

Shaking his head, Dan struggled to suppress a chuckle. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't get mad at her for this.  
"Vanessa, I'm going to hang up now. No one's jumping anyone's bones here, alright?"

"Good. Keep your word. Keep it in your pants, Daniel." She snickered quietly. "And be back by Friday. I want to see the thing now."

"Look, if I'm not, just get the tickets for you and someone else. You know where my spare keys are."

"That I do." Vanessa singsonged. "But try to be back anyway."

"Anything for you." He assured her, playfully rolling his eyes.

"Gooodloveyoubyeee." Another singsong and she had hung up, finally sparing him her oh so clever life advice.

Shaking his head, Dan finally stepped inside the diner, still having far too much time to waste.

* * *

The two hours passed more rapidly for Blair who had spent them desperately trying to come up with excuses for why she was even here - not all too successfully, she was afraid. Her instincts once more told her to run and find a decent hiding spot; what a deja-vu feeling.  
But she couldn't. Not only would it be foolish and cowardly but it was already too late.  
_Spotted: Lonely Boy approaching B's boutique.  
_God, Gossip Girl blasts were something she certainly wasn't missing nowadays.  
Bracing herself for what was about to come, she decided to show courage and willingly face her misery, therefore hurrying outside before he could enter the store.

"Humphrey."  
"Waldorf."  
Then silence, the kind that could not be considered uncomfortable just yet but still not the kind you'd like to revel in forever, during which they simply stared at each other. Hold on – that couldn't be right. That was cheesy high school romance movie material. Mentally frowning, Blair was the one to snap out of it first.  
"Let's just get this over with. First of all, we should establish some rules." She demanded, surprised when she didn't receive immediate backlash but instead full support.  
"Agreed." Dan nodded, a sly grin forming on his lips – as far as she could tell. God, that dreaded beard. "Rule number one: No more beard comments during lunch."  
That would be a tough one but Blair reluctantly agreed. "Fine. Here's one for you: I'm not willing to just get interrogated by you journalist style. In fact, I'm far more interested in your exciting Brooklyn hipster life so let's make this mostly about you with a minor dose of my small town anecdotes sprinkled on top."  
_Interested in your exciting Brooklyn hipster life? _Sure. Suddenly, he was certain: Blair definitely had something to hide, possibly of bigger dimensions than he had imagined it to be. Something he probably wasn't willing to write about. Actually, he wasn't really willing to write about her anyway. But he'd still have to figure it out just to satisfy his curiosity. Hadn't he always been the one she had been able to turn to with her deepest insecurities and darkest secrets anyway?

* * *

The restaurant she had picked, serving seafood as promised, was only a brief walk away from her boutique.  
Instantly, Dan couldn't help but try to picture her getting shrimps here during her lunch break – he couldn't; at least not until she led him to a table she seemed to have selected for herself a long time ago. Blair Waldorf, regular at a little seafood restaurant in Cabot Cove, Maine.  
Two days ago, he would have thought that to sound utterly insane. Now he was slowly getting used to the idea and certainly more and more eager to find out just how much small town Blair differed from UES Blair.  
Their orders were swiftly made but once the right time for casual small talk arose, Dan found himself too stunned to speak up. She still looked very much the same yet so entirely different from how he had last seen her.  
The way she dressed, the way she spoke - definitely remains of her socialite past.  
The way she wore herself, however, even the way she interacted with the waitress - that wasn't a whole new Blair but she was still somewhat different from the Blair he knew.

Feeling his burning gaze on her, this new version of Blair eventually realized it was on her to initiate the conversation - not that she wouldn't have enjoyed simply sitting in silence, not at all coming close to sharing well-kept secrets whatsoever.  
"So, Humphrey. How does it feel to be working for The New York Times? Prestigious?" She purred, sounding sincerely interested. Matter of fact, she was. At times, when her imagination ran wild, she couldn't help but wonder how her life might have turned out had she gotten to stay in New York, had she not gotten pregnant for that matter. So, really, what was the harm in exhibiting minor curiosity in a New Yorker's life, even if he was from Brooklyn?  
Dan shook his head as if her question had to have been rhetorical. "Have you read any of the crap they make me write?"  
"I have. I'm one of Cabot Cove's two subscribers, actually. And it's not all crap. Sure, you have far more potential but some of your articles were an enjoyable read." She assured him generously, shrugging lightly. "So… Davina Horowitz, huh? My suspicion hasn't come out of nowhere?"  
"Nope, that would be me." He laughed before sighing quietly. "See why I love my job now?"  
"Why do you even cover the gossip column if you despise doing it so much?" Blair frowned. As if he wasn't working enough already. There were plenty of stories published under his real name very regularly.  
"Because they make me." Dan replied, nearly sounding frantic. "And you know me, I need the money."  
Blair nodded slightly, silently studying him for a moment. So apparently, Humphrey wasn't living the life in spite of everything having gone as planned for him. Or at least as far as she was informed.  
"And what about The New Yorker?" She asked softly, in her newly gained concerned-mom-tone, tilting her head to the side.  
"Far out of reach." He muttered, running his fingers through his hair. "Sometimes I just want to quit and go back to writing novels."  
"Maybe you should." Blair suggested. "But you need the money."  
"Yeah, I need the money." Dan chuckled in order to bless the vicious cycle he was caught in with a bit of lightness, shaking his head.  
"It's whatever. Maybe one day I'll just quit. Look at you, though. Blair Waldorf, boutique owner." He wiggled his brows. "Since when?"  
"Three and a half years." She shrugged casually.  
"Impressive. So business is going well?"  
"Well enough to provide for my small town lifestyle." She nodded, biting her lip as their food arrived.

Silence emerged yet again between the two but this time it could be considered the comfortable kind.  
Their plates came and went and opposed to Dan's lunches with Serena he didn't skip dessert, nor were alcoholic beverages required for them to keep up light, even enjoyable, small talk. Naturally, he had to go ahead and ruin the harmony.  
"Blair, I know we set rules and everything but I have to ask because it just makes zero sense to me: why on Earth have you moved here?" He asked quietly, studying her expression so cautiously that he wouldn't miss a single twitch of an eye.  
Blair remained composed but took a deep breath before she spoke, seemingly choosing her words very carefully.  
"I know it's not very much like the Blair Waldorf you know, huh?" She stated dryly, rolling her eyes. "It's hard to explain. I guess I just needed a break from all the Upper East Side drama once I realized you were right about Chuck. I just... I had to think of myself and what was best for my sanity, my future." She decided, nodding affirmatively.  
And Dan believed her. Mostly. In a way, her reasoning made sense although he couldn't quite buy her selfish motives. The old Blair would have felt that way, sure, and the old Blair had made that decision after all but- God, he couldn't even explain it. The new Blair simply didn't seem to be capable of an equal selfishness, at least not if you asked him.  
"Why didn't you just go to France, though, like you told everyone?"  
A small grin formed on her lips:  
"Because then everyone would have found me.  
In Cabot Cove, it takes Dan Humphrey to find you."

* * *

From then on, the mood remained light-hearted.  
Opting for the longer route back to Blair's boutique, she told him all about the stereotypical small town residents she had met here and how strangely charming she had found her house to be the moment she had seen it from afar.  
Still a safe distance away from their destination, she dared to bring up the most dreaded topic again – the beard.  
"How many girls has this monster of facial hair already scared off, Humphrey? All of them?" She grinned, shoving him playfully.  
Dan shook his head in response. "Blair, you're simply being prejudicial here. You know what they say, don't trash it until you've tried it."  
"Is that a serious offer?" She asked, her expression seemingly unamused, her tone filled with amusement whatsoever.  
"Always at your service." Grinning widely, he wiggled his brows suggestively.  
Half-tempted, she momentarily considered actually sneaking a kiss at least – but decided against it.  
"I know I'm right so I'd rather not stain the precious memory of my last Dan Humphrey kiss." She announced dramatically, her voice not at all void of sarcasm. "How long do you intend to stay here anyway?"  
"I'm not really sure yet." Dan frowned. "Vanessa kind of expects me to be back in Brooklyn by Friday so that we can go to a thing I have tickets for."  
"Oh, a thing?" Blair asked curiously. "A Williamsburg hipster thing?"  
"No." Dan feigned a sigh. "A thing I completely forgot about. I honestly don't remember what it was."  
"Is that a thing you do nowadays then? Just going to random things you forget about?" Blair rolled her eyes. "God, Humphrey, what have you become without me in your life to guide you?"  
"Truth be told? A complete mess." He joked, raising an eyebrow once they found themselves in front of The B Hive. "So… how about dinner tomorrow?"  
"I believe you know my conditions." She simply replied, reaching out to touch the abomination of a beard in order to stress her point. "Off this goes. God, it's horrendously scratchy. Do you ever even touch that thing?"  
"Not regularly." He noted dryly, pondering for a moment. "If I happen to have shaved by tomorrow, I will have done it because I wanted to, not because you demanded it."  
"Tell yourself whatever makes you feel better about yourself, Humphrey." She shrugged as she pulled the door open. "No shaved face, no dinner."  
And with that, she disappeared inside, not awaiting another reply.

* * *

_**additional important matter I need your help with, darlings: I'm about to plot out the next chapter and suddenly finding myself really undecided - should Blair drop the 'yo I have a baby' bomb on Dan on the second or rather on the third 'date' (or whatever they would like to call it)? please give me your two cents on this, I'd appreciate it very much :')**_


	5. old friends on dinner (date) adventures

_a/n: yoo yoo yoo, my dearest readers! the time has come for 'date' numero dos and luckily for me, you have all wholeheartedly agreed with my original idea to save the reveal for date numero tres so this chapter happened. I hope there aren't a lot of typos in it since I literally just finished the end and I'm about to head off to bed so I wouldn't be surprised if I missed some in spite of having read over it again but I didn't want to make you wait for this any longer. From now on, my time for writing will be a little more sparse again so you might have to wait on the next chapter a bit longer but at least I've just blessed you with the longest chapter of the story to date - now I can only hope it's also a good one. They turned out a bit more flirty than originally anticipated but I think you've all wanted them to get closer before Blair spills her little secret and for her to keep it a secret as long as she possibly can - so I thought a slight Humphrey-infatuation in the making on her side could really push her towards coming clean.  
Once more, since I've decided to include Vanessa in the chapter prior to this one due to a review - I've pretty much decided that she's going to get the glorious job of blessing Dan with advice and helping him through his discoveries so she will get more than an honourable mention (like in this chapter) again pretty soon.  
Now, the big reveal will happen next chapter and I see you all still think Dan has to be the father (except for my home girl who would prefer either Chuck or Louis (let's be honest though, Louis would be such a plot twist, did any of you even think of him still? No worries though, I can safely say it's not Louis) but she shall be forgiven for her non-Dair-shipping ways for now) and I'm getting a little too excited about this myself actually ahaha so I'll try to update as quickly as possible but it'll definitely take me a bit longer. I really just rushed my replies last week while I had the time to write so that you'd have something to cling onto once life slows me down.  
Hope you'll all enjoy it &amp; once again, thanks for feedback in every ever so little form, you're all wonderful!  
Special Mini Guest Appearances once again by Dorota (&amp; Chuck Bass through the medium of dream); honourable mention to Vanessa xoxo_

* * *

For the first time in years, Blair dreamt of Chuck Bass again. More specifically, their wedding night gone wrong and the morning after.  
Needless to say she wasn't blessed with the most peaceful sleep.

They had fought almost as soon as they had gotten some privacy although she could barely remember what had set it off. Chuck had planned an impromptu honeymoon for them and perhaps she had been irked by something about it - she honestly couldn't remember. Either way, she accused him of wanting to rule over her, somewhat out of nowhere but he showed no intentions of denying that.

"You're my wife now, Blair," he had said, "you basically belong to me."

Perhaps he had meant it as a joke. Probably, to be fair. He hadn't sounded utterly serious.  
But Blair didn't care. Having a light Holly Golightly moment a la 'people don't belong to people', a quote she had screamed back at him before hurrying out of the building, she had found herself in a cab, ordering the driver to Brooklyn with a frown.  
At least that would be far enough away from the UES, far enough away from Chuck and everything that now seemed to want to bury her under its weight until she would drown in it.

Why she had immediately thought of fleeing to Dan, she had found hard to explain back then. Serena might have been a safer bet. She would have told her that it was just a joke, not a very good one but still, and sent her back to her husband. Or let her sleep over had she refused. But instead she had chosen Dan and by now she knew why. She had wanted to hear just what a horrible mistake she had made. She had wanted to hear all about just how awful Chuck was and how unhappy he would make her and how she should have just never chosen him again in the first place.

Her dream had decided to skip Brooklyn and instead taken her right back home where unfortunately Chuck had been waiting up for her.  
The heated conversation had resulted in Chuck deciding to go on their honeymoon alone - what a glorious Chuck Bass idea - and wait for her to join him. She never did.

Before Dorota had woken her up, she had found herself repeating what had ultimately led to Chuck's decision, after he had bitterly scoffed that perhaps she should have married Humphrey instead:

"Perhaps I should have. At least Dan loved me for who I am, not who he'd like to turn me into."

There was a slight alteration in her dream in contrast to reality - back then, she had sounded like pure anger was speaking for her, not like she necessarily had to mean what she said. Now, she sounded dead serious. Had she always? If only she could recall.

Either way, she was acting ridiculous. Going insane by chance. Seeing Humphrey again had really thrown her off track, more so than she had anticipated. His company definitely didn't do her any good. Sure, she had actually ended up enjoying herself yesterday but she had been perfectly fine prior to him just bursting into her life again without further warning as well. Less tense, in fact. Less on edge.  
But no. Of course he had to rudely intrude and bring back all those awful memories. And make her miss her old life just a little bit.

* * *

Making her way downstairs, she was mentally praying that Dorota would go easy on her but she highly doubted it now that she had witnessed her awaking in a deep sweat. She could already hear the nagging sound of her voice urging her to come clean to Dan, just like that, simply because she believed things to be easy when they really were tremendously complicated.  
Luckily, she wasn't instantly greeted by her but by her daughter who was rocking an angelic smile this morning - too bad that she knew exactly what that meant: she wanted something.

"Good morning, mommy." Cynthia chirped in the sweetest tone she could muster.

"Good morning, sweetie." Blair chirped in a similar fashion, kissing her cheek prior to sitting down.  
"Just tell me what you want, C. I know there's something."

Biting her lip, Cynthia lowered her gaze, sighing quietly before she finally uttered her request:

"Mommy, I know you don't want Dorota and me to go out for some reason but can we please go feed the ducks today? That's all, I swear. We'll be right back home. Please?"

Blair was doomed. She couldn't resist that little pout, especially when she was asking for something as banal as feeding the ducks. That they had that little thing in common warmed her heart as well since her other interests seemed to mostly resemble her father's - or perhaps that was just her mind playing tricks on her. As if it wasn't enough already that she was a spitting image of him.

"Well... If you behave..." Blair began innocently, immediately witnessing her daughter's eyes light up, "you two can go but not before 6, alright? I'll call Dorota sometime during work to confirm it."

"Really?" Cynthia was ecstatic as she realized her mother had chosen the time her boutique closed. "Are you coming with us?"

Blair sighed. "I wish I could but I'll be busy meeting a... An old friend." She swallowed. What was she even supposed to label Humphrey? Old friend had to be the safest bet and in one way or another, that was one of the things they were. But that wasn't her main concern now. Her main concern was that she might have to ruin her daughter's plans had the wannabe hipster not shaved. After all, Blair Waldorf couldn't just break her word and go out with him anyway.

"An old friend?" Cynthia's ears had perked up at that point. "One who was on those photos you've shown me?"

"I suppose he was on some of those, yeah." B shrugged.

Cynthia was even more pleased, having developed a fair interest in her mother's former big city life.

"Awesome, can I meet him sometime?"

Blair struggled to keep herself from smiling, shrugging lightly

"Maybe one day. I'm sure you'd like him."

Of course the harmony couldn't last. Enter Dorota.

"Miss Blair, can we talk?"

Ugh. Naturally, she couldn't just leave it alone for once.

"Fine, I'll give you a minute, then I'll have to get going anyway." She sighed, kissing her daughter's temple before she stood and manoeuvered Dorota out of the kitchen, raising an eyebrow in a way that could only be interpreted as her demanding an explanation - instantly.

"Miss Blair, this situation - it not good for you. You don't sleep well, Miss Cynthia is inside all day-"

Harshly, Blair cut her off:

"Hey, you two are going to feed the ducks today!"

"Miss Blair," Dorota carried on regardless, unwaveringly trying to get her point across, "you should tell Mister Dan."

Of course. Blair could have just guessed it. Leave it to Dorota to pressure you into doing something that takes lots of time and scheming within the blink of an eye.

"Dorota," she sighed, running her fingers through her brunette locks, "I will. But these things take time. You can't just mention that you have a baby to a guy in between casual small talk, believe me. You have to ease them into it because they start to look at you differently the second you tell them."

"Miss Blair-"

"I'm working on it! Be content for once, for God's sake!" Blair protested defensively, for the first time wishing Dorota wasn't here, trying to interfere with her life.  
But of course, she was right. And she would tell him. Eventually.

* * *

In his room at the Seaside Inn, Dan had to face one of hardest decisions in the whole world - to shave or not to shave?  
Oh, who was he kidding? The only reason why he had been hesitating was that he didn't want Blair to think he'd obey all of her orders just to please her but quite frankly, there was no way around it. He wouldn't risk not getting to have dinner with her over a stupid beard the entire female population of this planet appeared to be dreading - and she was right, it really was horrendously scratchy.

Unsurprisingly, Vanessa had called again in the evening to inquire about how his 'date' - how she liked to call it - had went and of course how his Blair-infatuation was going.  
He had chosen his words wisely but the more she teased him about it, the more he started to wonder if there wasn't some truth to it.  
The Blair he had had lunch with hadn't made it easy for him not to become infatuated with her again. The passion she had shown when she had told him about her new home, the kindness she exhibited in spite of all the banter she pursued nearly religiously - it was astonishing. _She_ was astonishing.

Unsurprisingly yet again, he therefore found himself leaning against the façade of B's boutique close to 9 am, patiently waiting for the owner to arrive. Come to think of it, she really could have told him her address considering she had taken the time to describe her presumably charming house in such vivid detail.

At 9 o'clock, she indeed arrived - driving a silver Prius?!  
Dan had realized that she happened to be full of surprises nowadays but somehow he had never considered her actually getting a driver's license - now she had definitely proven him wrong.

"You forgot to mention you learned how to drive, like the less privileged Brooklyn kids." He greeted her, standing up straight again.

Blair stopped in her walk.

"Humphrey."

Closely studying him with a raised brow, she couldn't keep herself from grinning.

"I merely even recognized you looking like your old self."

"Oh well, you know, I kind of just woke up like this. No idea what happened." He shrugged, motioning to her car. "A Prius, huh?"

"Sure you did." Blair shook her head, then shrugged. "Yes, a Prius. Do you have a problem with it?" She asked challengingly, but mostly playfully.

"Oh no. I just always pictured you driving something awfully expensive and sleek or adorably cute and vintage. Not a Prius."

"Well, a Prius is practical, Dan." She stated dryly. "And I'm afraid you're to blame for ruining my love for vintage cars forever."

"Hey now, don't try to pin this on me." Dan immediately protested. "All the vintage cars I ever drove for you were fully at your service."

"You mean each of them was worse than the other. I'm officially forever through with those." Struggling to contain her laughter, Blair tried her best to keep a straight face. "As much as I enjoy reveling in awful past experiences of mine with you, there's still a burning question on my mind I'd very much like an answer to: What exactly are you doing here again?"

And there it was, the moment where she would somehow wrestle him to the ground in an anger fit like she had so many times before. Unless he managed to delay it.

"I'll provide you with an answer over dinner, as promised." He offered slyly.

Momentarily, Blair seemed to ponder her response - but only for a split second.

"6 pm. We'll meet here again. I think you've earned yourself being presented in a proper restaurant - or at least a proper Cabot Cove restaurant."

* * *

Thus, at six, they met outside The B Hive again.

"It's at the other side of town. I'll drive." Blair announced in greeting, motioning him to her car.

Although Dan had been wondering how good of a driver she could possibly be pretty much all day, he was quick to protest:

"Oh no. I don't trust your driving skills. How long have you had your license for? I'll drive, you give me directions."

She blessed him with an offended glare but eventually gave in.

"Fine Humphrey, if you think that's how you can ensure you'll die another day, I shall not force you. As long as that Mustang of yours won't kill us. I can already see this turning into one of those car rides with you in a vintage car I can add to my long list of disasters."

Rolling his eyes, he opened the door to the passenger side for her.

"I can assure you that none of that is going to happen with this car. It's basically my baby."

Blair swallowed upon hearing the last word of his reply but wordlessly got into the car. No, tonight wouldn't be the night she'd tell him about her daughter. As she had said before, she'd have to ease him into it. But she ought to stop cringing at every word that was connected to her secret in even the faintest way.

* * *

In spite of their destination being at the other side of town, they found themselves seated in a charming little Italian restaurant only a few minutes later. The perks of small town life.  
La Fontana had soon become Blair's favourite restaurant in town, all too often the location of choice for the limited amount of girls' nights out she had with her two closest friends here, Angie and Becca.  
Upon entering, she always found herself reminded of the Lady and The Tramp themed restaurant by its interior design – but not Tony's Town Square Restaurant at Disney World; Pizzeria Bella Notte at Disneyland Paris. They had celebrated Cynthia's fourth birthday there - they consisting of herself, her parents, their significant others as well as Dorota accompanied by her family - and ever since then, she couldn't help but reminisce whenever she entered this little trattoria.  
She didn't allow her thoughts to stray for too long however, already catching Dan staring at her yet again in this disturbing, star-gazing manor he seemed to have acquired during their time apart, silently signalling her that it was about time to engage him in a conversation – how he managed to do his job when he appeared to constantly be at a loss for words was a mystery to her.

"I believe you have promised me an explanation concerning your being here?" B asked casually, her eyes sparkling with honest curiosity as she searched his.

"Right… I have." Dan swallowed, unwilling to face the inevitable. At least he'd get it over with before their food arrived so perhaps she wouldn't end up throwing her dish all over him. "I'm going to be completely honest with you but please don't get mad at me, okay? Just let me finish and then you can get mad. If you have to." He requested somewhat pleadingly.

Blair's brows knit upon sensing his nervousness. It almost looked like she was going to get to seriously hurt him. Perhaps not such a bad idea. It had been a while. After initial hesitation, she nodded silently.

A sip of water was required before he felt capable of speaking again, although wine would have been much preferred. Of course their waiter had to be late with the bottle when, for once, it was needed.

"Originally, work sent me here. My boss is pretty eager to find you since the gossip column is getting boring nowadays and of course immediately had to think of me, the guy with the Upper East Side connections." An exasperated eye roll, then he continued. "It was never my intention to actually write that article which is why I told him I'd need a week to figure out if I could even do it but I used the opportunity as an excuse to look for you and well, I found you." He chuckled quietly. "But now that I have, I'm even more certain that I'm not going to write about you. Ever. I'm not quite sure what made you come here but I would never want to destroy what you have built for yourself since you obviously prefer to stay hidden which I can fully understand, by the way. And frankly, I feel like Cabot Cove becomes you. But yeah, anyway, feel free to hurt me now however you may please. Verbally, physically, it's completely up to you." He was rambling, terribly in fact, but at least he had managed to put a decent finishing touch to it.

Silence. Widened doe eyes studying him closely, presumably judging him and trying to find their first target. Or not. Blair pursed her lips, shook her head, and suddenly, they curled up into a small smile.

"Dan, I appreciate your honesty and I'll just be tremendously stupid, very unlike myself, and believe you, just like that. If I ever see an article about my location printed in The New York Times, though, you're a dead man."

Well… that had gone surprisingly well. Much like the rest of the night. Once wine was served, the mood was considerably lightened, their topics straying far from casual small talk, more so than they had at their friendly lunch the day before.  
Before they even knew it, the bottle had been emptied completely although they had not even finished the main course.  
Dan had been the first to notice.

"Blair, we should absolutely get another bottle of this." He suggested, picking up the bottle. "This is… _grandiose_, seriously. I don't even remember the last time I had such great wine."

"Oh what great surprise, they don't serve delicious wine in Brooklyn." Blair playfully rolled her eyes. "Dan, let's not. This is a small town. You can't just engage in drinking orgies unless you're the town's drunkard."

"Two bottles of wine for two people to share don't make a drinking orgy." Dan laughed, soon knitting his brows. "What have you become, Blair Waldorf? Sounds like we ought to show this town what a real drinking orgy looks like."

"Dan, no." Blair sighed dramatically. "I've just grown up, you know? I have to think of my reputation. My clean slate has enough stains; I don't need to add making myself look like an alcoholic to it."

"Oh, come on, Waldorf. Live a little. Apparently you're so far from being the town's drunkard that you're sounding like the town's prude." He whined. "Just this once, be the town's drunkard with me."

Another dramatic sigh and she gave in. Their empty bottle was quickly replaced with a full one and moments later, they were tipping glasses again.

"Well, Humphrey, I hope you're still aware of how stupid we tend to get when we're getting drunk together. Naturally, I expect you to behave yourself." Blair announced despite visibly being more relaxed than she was mere minutes ago.

"How could I ever forget our glorious drunken adventures?" He laughed in response, shaking his head before taking a sip at the same time as she did. "Actually, I'm pretty sure we've made all our best shared experiences when intoxicated. Even our last memorable kiss happened when we were drunk, didn't it?"

"Oh, it sure did." She rolled her eyes. To tell the truth, that last memorable kiss also would have happened had there not been alcohol involved, she was certain of that by now. "Makes us sound like alcoholics, see? Anyway, you're still going to behave yourself. Too much of a good thing can spoil it entirely."

"Waldorf, it's been five years. Be honest, you probably merely recall that kiss."

"And once again, you couldn't be more wrong." She scoffed sarcastically, only to add in a far lower tone: "That's one thing I could never forget."

Upon dessert, they both inquired if either of them was seeing someone – very subtly, obviously. Neither of them was but that didn't change a thing. After all, this was definitely just the alcohol speaking out of them.  
The second bottle was empty once the bill arrived which turned out to be the biggest problem to solve of the entire night.  
First, both Dan and Blair wanted to cover it in its entirety.  
Then Blair suggested splitting it but Dan continued to refuse.  
Eventually, he won but not without a snarky remark about his obvious Brooklyn-poverty-complex from Blair's side.  
It was nearly 9 pm, a fact that shocked her immensely, once they were both seated in the Mustang again.

"Okay, you just drop me off at the boutique, alright?" She ordered, her speech slightly slurred, as she buckled up.

"No, Waldorf, you're drunk. I'll drive you home." Not that he was still sounding perfectly sober either.

"Well then how am I supposed to get to work tomorrow morning?" She scoffed in annoyance.

"I'll pick you up. There. Simple solution to a non-existent problem."

And with that, the matter was settled. Once she had reluctantly instructed him where to go, Blair found herself staring out of the window during the mostly silent drive, taking in what was left to see of the scenery in the dark until the sights seemed to make her realize something she wanted to share with him – for whatever reason other than mild insanity.

"You know, Humphrey, I think I know why I chose to move to Cabot Cove of all places. It's safe. It's my safe place. Like, a safe haven of sorts, you know? It's the kind of place where you can settle down without worries and raise a family." She mused.

Dan let out a small laugh. "Really, Blair? Your main concern about the place you wanted to move to at the brink of the annulment of your marriage was if it was family-friendly?"

Blair shrugged. "A girl can dream."

* * *

Seven minutes later, they had reached Orchard Street where Dan stopped the Mustang right in front of her house. It hadn't been hard to find it just by her description – she really hadn't missed a single detail. Before she could protest, he had gotten out of the car and opened her door for her.

"I'll walk you to the door." He proposed but immediately received backlash.

"I'll let you walk me to the gate." Blair offered instead.

Their destination was quickly reached but neither of them showed any signs of wanting to initiate them parting ways until finally, he broke the silence:

"And I still think five years has been too long. Come on. We're basically obliged to make out when we're drunk. One even more memorable goodnight kiss than the one we'll both never forget for old times' sake?"

Blair raised a brow in amusement. "It wouldn't be more memorable no matter how hard you tried." She decided teasingly.

"You'll see. It'll blow your mind." Dan grinned confidently. "On three?"

_"What?!"_ For a second, she burst out laughing but nodded once she had collected herself. "On three, alright. Impress me."

Thus, on three, their lips locked in a kiss that was truly memorable. It was equally hesitant at first as it could be considered rough moments later – not at all the unpleasant kind of rough whatsoever – but magically remained tender all the same.  
It took all her self-control for Blair to break it again and she probably wouldn't have had enough of it had she not been painfully aware of the fact that she had a maid and a four-year-old waiting for her in that house behind that gate.

"Very close," she whispered, reluctantly taking a step back, "but not quite."

"Now you're just lying to me and to yourself." Dan protested, his voice a mere whisper as well.

"I'm not." She shook her head, licking her lips. God, she could hardly believe that she was actually about to make this proposition but before she could stop herself from doing so, the words had already come out of her mouth. "Tomorrow. 9 pm. Don't laugh but the only decent bar here is called Sprinkles." She herself struggled not to laugh at that abomination of a name, for God's sake, but Dan seemed to be content with just a grin. "Oh and you have to pick me up at 8:45 tomorrow morning, got that?"

He nodded but still didn't seem all too eager to leave.

"Are you sure you don't want to show me that charming house of yours from the inside?"

Laughing, she shook her head no.

"Go home, Humphrey – you're drunk."

"Not as drunk as you, Waldorf. You do realize you just asked me out, right?"

A dismissive wave of her hand and the gate closed behind her, the darkness of her garden seemingly swallowing her up and consequently removing her from his sight.


	6. five years a secret, revealed in the 70s

_a/n: I'm gloriously returning, loves! I was afraid it might take me longer but luckily I had gotten to the point of the reveal late last night already and nearly could have posted it then but sadly was too tired to still write a decent reaction, boo. But now here I am, yay.  
First off, before I forget, a tremendous thank you to all the reviewers once again - we've just pushed past the 40 reviews mark as I'm writing this and I have never been able to get as much feedback for any of my other fics so I consider it a huge honour tbh #blessed #celebritymode  
Because of that, it's also just such a pleasure to write for you all so I'm hoping I'll be able to keep my updates coming at (roughly) this pace.  
Now, about this chapter: as promised, the moment of the big reveal has come. I don't want to spoil it up here but I suppose it wasn't all that hard to foreshadow. I'll explain my motives for letting (spoiler censored) be the father in the a/n for the next chapter because they're relatively simple ahah. Because it's such an important chapter, I'm once again pretty self conscious about it, mostly because it's the chapter I first had a vision of before I even started writing this story so I've sort of glorified it, but I hope you'll all like it and approve of it anyway.  
At least it serves as proof that, although I'm not an expert when it comes to picking dishes at restaurants, I'm a total expert when it comes to  
• 50's-70's music  
• Al Pacino's beard-chest hair-ratio/situation in the 70's  
• the 70's in general  
• Al Pacino in general  
not at all stuck-up or anything, nooo  
But yes, forgive me my 70's infatuation. (sucks when you were born in 95). I'll stop wasting your time now. As always, all feedback is highly appreciated &amp; keeps me going. The next chapter is most likely going to be a little flashback chapter (to keep the tension up for a bit mwhaha)  
Minor little guest appearance by Vanessa once more xoxo_

* * *

At precisely 9:26 pm, Dan Humphrey entered his second floor room at the Seaside Inn, silently and even more so aimlessly pacing around his bed momentarily, completely clueless about what to do with himself.  
At precisely 9:27 pm, Vanessa Abrams's phone rang with an incoming call from him. Bewildered, she picked up at the second ring.

"Dan? Are you calling to tell me you're not coming back to go to the thing with me or has Blair castrated you?"

"I just called to say you were right. Far too right. It's nearly scary."

Brief silence, followed by a still baffled Vanessa voicing her confusion:

"Are you drunk on a week night? You sound drunk."

"Just a little." Dan dismissed her, rolling his eyes. "Listen, Vanessa, you were right. Did you hear that? You were right about _everything_." He sighed softly. "I'm completely infatuated with Blair Waldorf. As always, in spite of herself, in spite of myself – now, what do you think I'm supposed to do? "

"Is that a serious question?" She asked mockingly. "Run as fast as you can and hide. That should be your best option."

* * *

Back in Orchard Street, Blair wasn't in the mood to talk in the least. Convinced that Dorota wouldn't rest until she had questioned her about her dinner, the main focus of course being on whether she let Dan in on her secret yet, she simply ignored her and made her way right upstairs.  
Who knew, perhaps she had even been snooping through the window.  
Headed straight for her daughter's room, she tucked her in and supplied her with the requested goodnight story.  
Nowadays, the only stories that captured Cynthia's interest were, understandably, about her mother's past and preferably involved her father as well, thus it came as no big surprise that she requested to hear about that 'old friend' Blair had been meeting with.  
Ostensibly reluctant, she agreed.  
Cynthia should be the only one hearing a toned down recap of the night's events from her side.

However, talking about it didn't have the healing effect she had so ardently desired. It didn't bring her clarity, clarity she so desperately needed.  
Instead, it only made her ponder more - about Humphrey, about their kiss, about her own stupidity, about the hopelessness of her situation - making her thoughts spiral into a dark abyss that took you right to the river of no return.  
Even her dreams, though not unpleasant, didn't care to distract her from her misery.  
Much to her dismay, Blair got to enjoy a wild potpourri of memories - of him, of her, of them, good and bad - that had her restlessly tossing and turning all through the night.  
Needless to say she woke up exhausted and merely on time as she had locked the door in order to avoid confrontation with Dorota for as long as humanely possible – after all, having to deal with her first thing in the morning surely could not be considered a perfect start of the day.

Silent as a spy, she whizzed down the stairs – only to run into Dorota on her way to the kitchen. Not even giving her time to open her mouth, Blair rapidly grabbed her coat and slipped it on during a small tirade:

"Don't even start, Dorota._ No_, I haven't told him. But hey, instead I felt the need to nearly shove my tongue down his throat in drunken stupor. That's a start, right? Maybe I'll tell him tonight but don't bet on it."

Irritated, she made her way to the kitchen and peeked in through the doorway, seemingly dropping her bad mood within seconds at the sight of her daughter.  
"C," she addressed her with a soft smile, "I'm running late but I'll pick you up from day care today, alright?"

Cynthia nodded excitedly, still too busy chewing on her cereal to respond properly.

* * *

Not throwing Dorota another glance, Blair rushed out of the house, luckily having noticed that it was already 8:44 – and Humphrey was overly punctual. As expected.  
Oh, screw him and his correctness. She could have used another minute to clear her head prior to being confronted with him.  
Mentally bracing herself, she made her way to the Mustang, trying her best to keep up a confident stride although she really wanted to crawl into a hole and not come out again before nightfall.  
Meekly taking a seat on the passenger side, she mustered a small smile as she glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. He seemed to be in too good of a mood for her liking but also… nervous? Oh yes, that was nervousness she was sensing.

"You're exceptionally early." She mumbled in greeting.

"Poor people habit." Dan chuckled, checking the time. "Hold on – by a minute? I don't think that can be considered early."

"Rich people habit – being a minute early feels like being an hour early to us." Blair rolled her eyes playfully. "I suppose both our daily doses of prejudice have just been covered."

"Most definitely." He nodded in agreement before driving off.

They had barely been on the road for a minute before he exhibited signs of increasing discomfort, eventually ending up clearing his throat before he spoke, attempting to sound as nonchalant as possible:

"So, that kiss-"

Hurriedly, Blair cut him off:

"Was a mistake which should not be repeated. Don't you agree?" She chirped a little too sweetly, thereby nearly making her voice sound frantic.

And just like that and clear to see, his good mood vanished into thin air.

"Uh, yeah… that wasn't what I was about to say but you're right, of course." Swallowing, he stared blankly at the road, his expression visibly dropped as well. "I suppose our plans for tonight are off as well?"

Shyly, she lowered her gaze.  
_Yes,_ the little voice inside her head screamed. _Tell him to crawl back to Brooklyn and never dare to bother you again.  
_But she couldn't say that. None of it. Not even this little three-letter-word.

"No," was what she found herself opting for instead, sighing quietly.  
_Waldorf, shut up now before it's too late._  
"Dan… it's not that I don't like you or don't see you that way. But there's something I have been keeping from you and I'm not sure if you'll still like me much once you know what it is."

"Then tell me tonight and let me decide for myself. Please?" Dan requested, desperation oozing out of every pore – okay, that was a bit over the top but he still looked at her like a puppy you're about to not take home with you after all.

"Fine." She agreed meekly. "But you're not allowed to hate me. You asked for it."

He shook his head once the car came to a halt in front of The B Hive, turning to face her:

"Blair, at this point, I think I'm incapable of hating you."

* * *

If only he was also incapable of letting her words confuse him so much they'd be on his mind all day. And it was only 9 am, for God's sake. He'd have to wait at least until 9 pm before he'd be close to answers.

By now, he had grown accustomed to the town in the very least, enough to not stroll around as aimlessly as he used to, but he couldn't even think of a possible destination. Too busy was his mind, running wild, pushing him to the brink of insanity should he not be capable of finding a distraction.  
Should he call Vanessa again? No, he didn't want to bother her with his problems already. Last night's phone call had been embarrassing enough, certainly something that wouldn't have happened had he not had a little too much wine.  
Back to longing for their auspicious date - or should he call it _meet up_ now? He had been far too content about getting to call it a date, he should have known it would go awfully wrong in one way or another.

Sighing deeply, he stopped the car and eventually sat down outside the nearest café, retrieving his phone.  
He could at least text her, right? Once more deciding against it, he set his phone back down. Not yet.  
Again, he let his thoughts wander. Vanessa wouldn't be able to help him.  
He had to help himself for the time being by figuring out what Blair could possibly have been hiding from him here.  
As long as it wasn't Chuck Bass, he was certain he wouldn't hate her.  
He wouldn't even hate her if she was married to someone and hadn't cared to tell him - unless it was Chuck.  
Normally quick to solve riddles of this kind, an ability he was rather proud of, he failed miserably this time. Nothing new.  
Perhaps it was her, perhaps it was this town but something was definitely dumbing him down and he hated it.  
If only it was 9 pm already. 8 at least. Even 7 would do.

* * *

Blair on the other hand was wishing it could be only 7 am so she could curl back up in bed and simply ignore the outside world for a day.  
Or forever, that would work as well. But she knew she couldn't.  
Her first impulse had always been to run from her problems and old habits die hard but she certainly had improved. She couldn't be quite sure what had caused that change but her bets were on motherhood.  
To tell the truth, having Cynthia had changed her in more ways than she had ever thought possible and the majority of aforementioned changes were definitely positive.  
Not only had she become less selfish but having to care for a child all by herself had taught her that running wasn't always the easiest option as she had previously believed but should really only be used as a last resort.  
At times, it wasn't an option at all. Which was why she couldn't keep running from Dan. He deserved better.  
Perhaps she could refrain from actually telling him the truth, though.

_I'm married to a fisherman who pulls off a massive beard only half as well as you do but I still love him._

_I'm involved in illegal business, you know, and letting you into my life would be far too dangerous._

_I'm dying from an incurable disease induced by syphilis, actually._

_No, I lied. _  
_I'm just not that into you. _  
_Now please go away._

God no.  
Each and every one of those sucked.  
Looked like she'd have to opt for the truth after all.  
As much as she hated to admit it, being a mother had also made her softer - too soft if you asked her or else there wouldn't be a problem here.

Strangely, the more time had passed, the less she found herself worrying about it. A small part of her left her foolishly grasping onto the small piece of hope that Humphrey might have simply forgotten she had mentioned this in the morning. As if she didn't know him at all after all those years. Oh, if only she hadn't let it slip that she was keeping a secret. He never would have guessed a thing.  
Either way, whatever tactic she was employing there worked flawlessly. So flawlessly that she went home in a rather joyful mood and happily got changed for their date. Should by some inexplicable extraterrestrial force their earlier conversation be erased from Dan's memory, this could actually end up being enjoyable.  
Granted, chances were relatively slim but a girl could dream.

* * *

Sprinkles might be considered a rather small bar for New York standards but it seemed to be truly perfectly sized for a town like Cabot Cove. As weird as its name was, as much of a timeless classic it seemed to be when it came to design. Instead of being just on time as she had intended, Blair arrived five minutes early – but Dan was already waiting up for her anyway. Overly punctual, like she had said. Shaking her head, she walked up to him, her smile genuine this time.

"And again you're early, Humphrey. It's beginning to look like a bad habit of yours." She teased, gaining a signature eye roll in response.

"Better than being late, right?" He shrugged and pulled the door open to let her in. "You look… really great, you know."

"I do." Blair grinned as she stepped inside ahead of him. "But it still doesn't cease to amaze me that in spite of you being a writer, your vocabulary seems to be so fundamentally limited that you have to call my look 'great'"

"Well…" Dan rolled his eyes again but managed a small laugh. "I suppose I would be honoured if I were you. It basically just means I'm at a loss for words due to your beauty."

"If only you weren't at a loss for words pretty much 24/7."

Security didn't seem to play a big role at this establishment as no one even bothered to be around in order to check anyone's IDs – perhaps Cabot Cove's minors were simply little angels who would never dare to try to get into a bar using a fake ID.  
Whatsoever, they were stopped on their way inside – by none other than Blair herself.

"Oh, hold on, I forgot to check what theme night tonight is." She appeared to be mentally scolding herself as she hurried to a list printed on blue paper which was pinned to a bulletin board on the right next to the entrance. No further explanation was provided but a small glance over her shoulder revealed that literally every night was a theme night, a realization that left Dan more confused about this town than ever before.

"Okay, there we go. 70's Night. Could be worse." She mused, thinking for a moment before she tossed her head upside down and efficiently fluffed up her hair. A slight frown served as proof that she wasn't 100% pleased with the result but she quickly moved on to give him a makeover anyway.  
"You have it so easy." She announced with a pout, unbuttoning two more buttons on his shirt without asking for permission first. "You always look like you've stepped out of the 70's."

Dan had obediently let her work her magic on him, momentarily having lifted his hands in slight shock but now placed them on his hips, throwing her a judgemental look.  
"Are you going to target my chest hair now that the beard is gone?"

"Hm? Oh no." Blair shook her head, finally willing to lead him inside. "I was just surprised that you were willing to combine such a dominant beard and such a dominant amount of chest hair. You were doing the Al Pacino look all wrong. He toned the chest hair down when he wore a beard like that."

"Who says I was going for the Al Pacino look?" Dan raised an eyebrow, a small grin forming on his lips. "Are you trying to imply that my beard had actual Pacino potential?"

"Of course you were, don't try to deny it." Blair scolded (and she was right, he really was). "Maybe I am. But it's a good thing it's gone. Leave the chest hair instead, suits you better."

* * *

It didn't take long for the pair to find a small table they could occupy all for themselves and soon after, their first round of drinks was served. Still anxious about what she had to confess to him, Dan struggled not to creepily stare her down during their exchange of light small talk but he didn't dare to push her just yet. Perhaps she'd come around herself. For now, the topic wandered to her past experiences with Sprinkles' theme nights.

"If you think this one is bad, you should have come to 50's/60's Doo Wop Night." Blair laughed, referring to the crowd they were joined by – mostly people who might have actually been able to get into bars in the 70's. "You do not want to witness a bunch of the 70+ crowd trying to twist and slow dancing to _A Teenager in Love_."

"So you prefer the company of the 50+ crowd exchanging longing glances to _If I Can't Have You_?" Dan asked in between sips. "I'm still waiting for a wannabe Travolta to pop up."

"He'll come if we last long enough, believe me."

Only a fool wouldn't have sensed the increasing tension in the air, mostly originating from Dan's growing discomfort. Blair wasn't a fool. She could barely witness this any longer. The anticipation was obviously killing him yet he was being too polite to pressure her, unlike she had been. Clearing her throat, she downed her drink, momentarily staring at the bottom of her glass prior to shyly searching his eyes.

"I believe I owe you an explanation."

Within seconds, he visibly relaxed.  
"You do."

"Right." She swallowed, in need of a deep breath before she could continue. "I can't just randomly make out with someone like that anymore without thinking about the consequences because I-"

God, was she really doing this? She could hardly believe it. But she was. The time had come. The moment of truth. And all of a sudden, it was out of her mouth, quicker than she had even noticed.

"Dan, I have a four-year-old daughter."

There it was. The cat was out of the bag. For a few seconds, it seemed to linger between them, not further addressed but Dan was quick to regain his cool.  
For some reason, Blair's secret being that she had a child hadn't even found a spot on his list of possibilities but it still came as a relief.  
That was something he could easily deal with. As far as he was informed, he was good with kids after all. He generally liked them. Surely, he'd like Blair's kid. Even if it was Chuck Bass's. Which it obviously wasn't, right?

"But… Blair, that's- that's wonderful. Why would I like you any less for that?" A small chuckle escaped him. "You know me, I'm all for kids. And honestly, perhaps this'll just make me like you more. Respect you more at least. I mean, you have been raising her on her own, right?"

Perhaps he had been a bit too quick to make assumptions there - but apparently not, considering she nodded slowly, definitely still not relaxed in spite of his positive reaction.

"Yeah, it's just been her and me. Her name is Cynthia and I'm going to sound awfully cheesy and stereotypical now but she's truly been a blessing." She smiled a little once her thoughts wandered to her daughter. "She's taught me a lot about myself, you know."

"I can imagine, yeah." Dan mumbled absentmindedly, his brows knit. Suddenly, his mind had begun to work overtime, struggling to do the math.  
If her daughter was four now… No… right? Yes, of course.  
If she was four now, chances were Blair was already pregnant when she left the UES. Or not?  
The fact that her daughter's name started with a C didn't offer him comfort in the least either. Oh well. Perhaps Chuck Bass's spawn wasn't all that bad as long as she had not been raised by him. Or could it be…? No, probably not. Highly unlikely.

"Do you mind me inquiring about who-" He began but was quickly cut off by an ever so nervous Blair who had been scrambling for her phone.

"I could show you a photo if you like?" She asked quickly, seemingly throwing the words at him as quickly as possible to keep them from sticking to her throat.

"Sure."

He wasn't going to protest. One should never protest if someone wanted to show you photos of their child and he certainly was curious to see hers.  
Whatsoever, once he had seen her, he was shocked to say the least.  
Chuck's genetics surely couldn't have been responsible for such a cute creature – one that looked so much like _him_ in particular.  
Baffled, he looked from her phone's screen to Blair and back to the photo.  
Back to Blair his eyes darted as he found himself helplessly motioning between her and himself.  
This was definitely a proper loss-for-words-situation and surely no one could blame him for being speechless in this very moment.

Not even Blair herself seemed to feel like teasing him. In fact, she almost looked like she was blushing slightly.

"The resemblance is rather uncanny, isn't it?" She more stated than asked, her tone a bit weaker than previously. His reaction so far wasn't exactly contributing to her calmness.

"Certainly." Dan swallowed. This couldn't even be. What were the odds? None of this appeared to be making sense to him so far but there was no denying it. "So… let me get this straight: your daughter also happens to be _my_ daughter?" He asked in (mildly frantic) disbelief.

Blair simply nodded. "I know I should have told you sooner…"

"Yeah, you should have. Once you found out you were pregnant would have been a good time." His tone ended up sounding a little more sarcastic than he had originally intended but this, this was simply too much to take in all at once. He needed to get out of here. "I just… I need some fresh air. I'll be right back."

And with that, he stormed out of the bar.

* * *

At first, Blair was determined to obey and wait inside for him but now it was her time to panic.  
Ostensibly, he hadn't taken it all that well – sure, his reaction could have been far worse but this had definitely thrown him off – so what if he decided he simply couldn't do this and ran off to Brooklyn never to be heard from again? Of course that was his right and if he decided to, she wouldn't stop him but the mere thought alone was too painful to enable her to simply sit around and wait.  
Not even a minute had passed until she had followed him outside where he was looking oddly out of place, just standing on the middle of the sidewalk, one hand buried in his hair as if that were to help him think clearer. Impulsively deciding against approaching him just yet, she leaned against a wall behind him, timidly daring to speak again:

"Dan, I'm really sorry. I realize I should have told you but-"

Shaking his head, he turned around to face her, his tone more harsh than he wanted it to be.

"Well, why haven't you told me, Blair? I just- I don't understand so please help me out there. I mean, I'm not Chuck and you know that. I would have raised your child with Louis with you if you had wanted me to. What the fuck had you thinking that I wouldn't want to be there for my own child? Considering you never even tried to tell me all these years and probably wouldn't ever have had I not burst into your life, you must have been very convinced that I wasn't up for it."

"I considered telling you." She protested meekly, struggling to fight back the tears that were threatening to fall. "I tried once."

It took a moment but he soon realized what she had to be talking about.  
"You mean that one time you tried to call me but then hung up?"  
His voice was a lot softer now than it had been during the first part of his mini rant but just how was he supposed to not get emotional over this? Whoever was capable of staying completely calm in such a situation had to be out of their right mind.

A small nod, followed by an even smaller sob. "I really didn't mean to hurt you with this, not at all. But if you hate me now, I can't blame you."

Dan sighed deeply as he stepped closer to her. "Please, just tell me why. I could still never hate you, but I just want to understand your reasoning."

"I didn't want us to end up like you and Georgina." She sniffed.

At first, he thought she was referring to their whole situation when they first started raising Milo together being something she didn't want for herself, that she didn't want to depend on him or God forbid move to Brooklyn but he soon realized he was wrong. If that had been the case, she would have skipped the '_us'_.  
No, that wasn't what she meant. Not even her tone implied it.  
What she was really getting at was that she hadn't wanted to force herself upon him, he was sure of it. She hadn't wanted him to feel obliged to care for her, very well aware that he would have.

To test his theory, he quietly stepped closer once more, his voice definitely having reached an earnest state of softness by now. "We wouldn't have ended up like that."

"Yes, we would have." She sobbed nearly hysterically. "It would have all gone wrong at some point and you would have ended up hating me and our lives would have been miserable. Besides, I couldn't have made you give up New York for me, that wouldn't have been fair."

"I would have turned my back on New York for you in a heartbeat, without the slightest regrets."

Blair's eyes darted up to lock on his, still shimmering with unshed tears. "Of course you would have regretted it." She muttered, seemingly calming down just the slightest bit.

"No, I wouldn't have." He rolled his eyes. "God, don't you get it?"

No response, only a silent, confused stare from her side.

"You really don't, do you?" Sighing quietly, he leaned close enough for their lips to touch, not receiving any protest when he kissed her gently. "I've loved you all these years, up until now, and I still do. I wouldn't have had a single regret." He whispered, stepping back.

Silence. Blair's gaze still on him, her lips slightly parted in shock. Dan's gaze lowered as his mind began to run wild once more.

"I should go back to New York." He suddenly murmured. "There's something I need to take care of."

Simultaneously, she started to quietly sob again.  
"Oh God." She whispered in realization. "I screwed it all up, didn't I? I did and now it's too late."

"No, Blair, it's-" His protest was cut short.

"No, you go back. Do what you need to do." Swallowing hard, she slowly made her way to her car, violently wiping her tears away.

"Let me at least drive you home. Please."

"No, just go. I'll be alright. I've always managed fine." She shrugged as she unlocked it.

Dan rolled his eyes in exasperation. She was a hopeless case. Following her to her car, he opened the door for her but stopped her from getting in just yet.

"Just let me take care of this, okay? It's really important but it shouldn't take long." He told her calmly. "And as soon as I'm back, I'd like to meet my daughter."


	7. breakfast at humphrey's?

_a/n: hello there darlings! as previously announced, this is going to be just a brief little flashback chapter - I kept it this a bit shorter because I know you're all looking forward to Dan &amp; Cynthia getting to meet but we still have to tackle him trying to cope with the news back in NYC so I didn't want to bore you with awfully long interludes. Nonetheless, I thought we ought to at least somewhat cover this part of Dair's past - since, like I said earlier, the chances of Dan being the father were relatively slim statistically speaking (but lbh that was only to throw y'all off, just like the last a/n where I went all 'ooh foreshadowing' trololol)  
But I was going to explain my motives for making Dan the father - firstly, the entire story, once I got the original idea of Blair raising a child in a small town &amp; obvs Dair happening somehow, originated from that one scene that suddenly flashed before my eyes of her telling him that the child was his - in other words, the last chapter was kind of actually the first one haha. So yeah, there was no way around making Dan the father.  
Secondly though, I've already read plenty of fics where Dan had to e.g. deal with Henry and whatnot and although I genuinely enjoyed them, I wouldn't have wanted to go down the same or even a similar road. I feel like he deserves a child that has inherited plenty of traits from him already so that they can connect a bit more easily - and one that's actually his biologically for a change of course haha.  
In other news, I know I've kept you waiting a bit longer than usual but am now only blessing you with a rather short and not very relevant chapter - but do not fret! This was to be posted on Friday already but I simply couldn't seem to come up with a halfway decent paragraph to end it with. This would have been an opportunity for explicit smut but I decided against it both for shortness &amp; because I just didn't see it fit at this point. I've encountered a few people who consider cheating a trigger of sorts that would stain the reading experience for them and since we all know now that this is how C was conceived, I didn't want to stain this. Plus I think that fact makes the whole thing kind of a little more private? Idk, I'm weird. Watch me let Dan &amp; Blair make odd inside jokes concerning this night none of us will ever understand because we didn't get all the details. It'll be grand.  
Now the great news though - as I struggled to come up with said paragraph I already started the next chapter and actually finished it in its entirety today. I don't want to post two chapters at once though which is why the next one will be posted either tomorrow or the day after tomorrow depending on how far I get with writing chapter 9 (which is already fully plotted out by now at least)  
Oh yes &amp; quick formatting, since the whole chapter is mostly flashback, I reversed the common laws of flashbacks and put the short presence interlude in italics bc reading italics for a whole chapter can be pretty annoying after all.  
As always, a huge thanks for all kinds of feedback, you're all amazing xoxo_

* * *

**_S_**_hortly before ten pm, Blair Waldorf unlocked the front door of her Cabot Cove home, still silently sniffing as she stepped in.__  
Tonight's events had exhausted her to say the least.  
Granted, it could have gone worse, far worse but it also could have gone better.  
Regardless, she was in desperate need of comfort now that Dan was probably already on the way to New York. Pure madness must have supplied him with the absurd idea that he could drive through the night to arrive in the morning and therefore be able to return sooner as well or perhaps it was just his polite way of saying that he couldn't stay another minute in this town. Who knew, maybe he didn't even intend to ever come back.  
No, scratch that. This was Humphrey she was talking about. He would come back. The realization made her sob again. God, how could she have been so stupid, blind, excruciatingly idiotic? He would have happily been there all along and she hadn't even given him a choice.  
To her surprise, Dorota peeked her head out of the living room where she had been watching TV on exceptionally low volume, having heard her quiet sobs._

_"Oh, Miss Blair." She sighed as she approached her. "You told Mister Dan?"_

_"__Yes." Blair sniffed in response. "And now I feel like the devil. I suppose you were right to warn me back in the day. I think I've made the biggest mistake of my life five years ago."_

_Once in the safe embrace of Dorota's arms, now fully allowing the tears to run freely, her thoughts wandered back to an incident five years ago where she had also been in need of comfort, requesting it with almost the exact same words. An incident that had ironically led to her being capable of making the mistake she was referring to now._

* * *

"Have I just made the biggest mistake of my life?"

Dan's face exhibited nothing but confusion in its rarest form – the one where you seriously didn't have the faintest clue about what was going on and couldn't seem to form a single straight thought in an attempt to figure out what the fuck was going on. Opening the door to Blair Waldorf – no wait, _Bass_ – so shortly after witnessing her wedding to Chuck and pretending to be happy for her the best he could certainly came unexpected. Being greeted by nothing but that angsty question of hers didn't make the situation any less absurd.

"Are you kidding me right now?" He asked dryly, his brows knit. She wasn't kidding, he could tell by her expression. But what was he supposed to say now?  
_No, of course not. You two will live a long, happy and prosperous life. Now go back to your husband?  
_Never would he be able to lie to her like that, although it was probably the right thing to do, probably what she wanted to hear as well.

"I'm not." Blair sighed in exasperation, letting herself in once Dan had stopped blocking the entrance. "Please. Just tell me your honest opinion. You're the only one I can trust to not tell me what I want to hear."

"Do you really need to ask for my honest opinion?" was a sarcastic remark he couldn't refrain from but he still obeyed her request. "I think you did, yes. I'm sure you're aware of my reasoning. But you shouldn't just take my word on this. What's right for you is something you should know for yourself."

She groaned in response. "Well, ostensibly, I don't."

"I'd say you do." He protested coolly. "If this hadn't been a mistake, you wouldn't be standing in front of me now doubting your decision."

And that was the point where she broke out into tears, immediately making Dan's heart sink to his stomach.

"But I-" She began to stutter but gave up on attempting to speak as soon as he hugged her close.

"Blair," he hummed quietly, knowingly, "what happened between you two that made you come here?"

The brunette scoffed in spite of her tears: "We got into a fight I guess. He made this really stupid comment about me basically belonging to him now and I just- I don't know, I snapped."  
The more she talked about it, the more ridiculous it made her sound – or at least that's how she felt. All of this was ridiculous. Thank God she had at least changed into her lilac sundress designated for her honeymoon and let her hair down by now or this would be even more of a travesty. Even Humphrey must deem her embarrassing, bursting into his Brooklyn territory when she should be about to board a private plane and fly off into paradise. When she should be getting ready for her wedding night, for fuck's sake.

Disgusted with herself, she escaped his embrace, taking a step back and artfully wiping her eyes. "Can we just not talk about this for a moment? I just need to collect myself and then I'll stop bothering you."

"You're not bothering me." Dan shrugged helplessly. "We could try to get you a little distracted but also give you enough time to think. How about a movie?"

"Only if you're willing to play a drinking game." Blair requested. "Maybe alcohol will solve my problem. Breakfast at Tiffany's?"

* * *

Again, she should have just come to Serena instead. Sure, this just so happened to be her comfort movie of choice most of the time but Serena would have been ecstatic to watch it with her and then send her right home. Dan's expression made it obvious that he had had a completely different movie in mind which he would have very much preferred but he agreed anyway. Thus, the two found themselves curled up on the couch a few minutes later were she still had to wipe an occasional tear from her eyes before it threatened to roll down her cheek for the entire world to see. Various bottles were lined up in front of them and although she didn't exactly trust the possibly cheap liquor the loft had to offer, they would have to do.

The drinking game Blair re-envisioned throughout the movie time and time again wasn't all that hard to understand as long as you could keep up with the ever changing triggers that allowed you to down your shot.  
They drank at every bit of French thrown into the dialogue.  
They drank whenever freedom, not being caged, and not belonging to anyone was mentioned.  
They drank whenever Holly called Paul Fred.  
They drank whenever they spotted Cat.  
They drank every time Doc called her Lula Mae.  
They drank at every mention of Tiffany's._  
_Even though the particularly touching scenes still brought more tears to her eyes than usual, the distraction part of the plan worked out without flaws.  
The thinking part however had been mostly neglected so far. Perhaps she had scooted over a little too closely, by now being pretty much cuddled against him but there couldn't really be any harm in that if it helped her relax, right?

For a while, they had watched the movie mostly in comfortable silence – Blair commanding them to drink aside – but once Holly's possible marriage to José was in the picture, Dan shifted in annoyance, rolling his eyes.

"I know we said we would ignore the topic for now but – you're Holly, Blair." He mumbled nonchalantly.

Blair raised her eyebrows in a suspicious manner. "Is that a compliment or…?"

"It's a description of your situation." He went on to explain. "You're Holly. And then there's Chuck. He seems like he's your José as long as you don't have him but he will turn out to be your Doc. He always has so far actually. You just need to catch up with Holly and realize that neither José nor Doc are a suitable match for you and that you should go off and find your Paul Varjak."

"Now don't tell me you consider yourself my Paul Varjak." She teased but was only blessed with a shrug in response, provoking a gasp from her. "Oh my God, you do! And you're right, you're totally him. You're even a writer for God's sake. Let's drink to that!" She commanded, downing her last shot for the night as they would soon give up on their drinking game in spite of there being more freedom references and Cat sightings to come.

Dan rolled his eyes but obediently drank. "Listen Blair, forget about Varjak. What's important is that I was serious about my metaphors for Chuck. You'll take that to heart, alright?"

She nodded quietly, sneakily cuddling closer again, resulting in him finally wrapping an arm around her (properly – the former placement had seemed more accidental than intentional if you were to ask an innocent bystander)

After a brief silence, he appeared to have entered full anti-Chuck argumentation mode, voicing his opinion in the form of nonchalant, unexpected musings.  
"Bow ties, Blair. He wears bow ties whenever he gets the chance. Even when everyone else is trying to look casual, he'll try to sneak a bow tie in. It looks ridiculous."

Although she wasn't certain why, Blair struggled not to laugh. "You're just saying that because you don't even own a bow tie, Humphrey."

"I don't need a bow tie in order to feel confident about myself." He shrugged.

"No, you're more for your grandpa's awfully distasteful ties." She concluded with a grin.

Dan feigned offend. "You didn't just go there again, right? My grandpa was a very tasteful man. He had style, he had grace, he had confidence. I feel on top of the world whenever I'm wearing his tie."

Blair rolled her eyes. "That doesn't make it any less horrendous."

Apparently, the bow tie obsession had been his strongest argument and therefore another round of silence emerged between the two until they had reached the end of the movie, Holly and Paul already in search of Cat. Her eyes, which had been violently wiped a few more times prior to this scene, strayed from the screen to curiously study his profile. All of her former worries seemed to have faded for now, leaving her amazed by just how comfortable she felt right here, right now. Come to think of it, she couldn't recall feeling that comfortable in a long time, perhaps not since they had broken up.  
Sitting up slightly, she kept her voice low once she spoke again, beginning with a simple "Thank you."

In response, he turned to face her but remained quiet until she continued.

"For all of this. For putting up with me when you could have just left me waiting outside. I probably would have deserved that considering I burst in on you with my frantic panic completely unannounced." She rolled her eyes.

"I couldn't have done that." He protested with a shake of his head.

Licking her lips, Blair granted herself another few seconds to just study his expression prior to addressing him again. "You of all people should know that Holly and Paul don't end up together in the book, don't you think?"

"I do." He sighed nearly inaudibly. "It happens exceptionally rarely but I'm afraid for once I slightly prefer the movie over the book."

Sitting up straighter, she whispered a soft "Me too" before leaning in to kiss him just as Holly and Paul shared their kiss in the rain – as unbelievable as it sounds, her perfect timing was purely coincidental.  
Though caught off guard, Dan initially kissed her back without any signs of protest but soon changed his mind, staring at her in disbelief.

"Blair," he calmly began what he intended to be a short speech, "I believe we can safely agree on you having made enough mistakes for a day so I really hope you're aware of that this could turn into a really big one."

"Dan," Blair addressed him, imitating his tone, "I am and I believe we can safely agree on you having to shut up for once in your life."

Though he was still afraid he might be her partner-in-crime in making a huge mistake she was going to regret once she, as per usual, decided to run back to Chuck, he didn't dare to issue any further protest. He had tried his best to make her come to her senses, hadn't he? At least kind of.  
The credits were not paid any more attention to and soon enough the point was reached where Blair silently demanded to be carried to the bedroom, leaving the abandoned TV to play the DVD's menu over and over again until it would eventually switch itself off after not having received a command for four hours straight.

* * *

Even now, five years later, she still remembered every minor detail, having been far less intoxicated than she might have seemed at times.  
In hindsight, being very well aware of the consequences of that particular night, it was hard to pick a most memorable moment but she certainly wouldn't forget the initial surprise when she had to realize she had almost forgotten about how skilled he was with his mouth.  
Either way, they got pretty busy that night, there was no denying that, and eventually, that last memorable kiss they had been talking about earlier this week had happened. It was sickeningly sweet and seemed to want to linger on both their lips forever yet it torturously left you longing for more. Nonetheless, it felt like an appropriate goodbye, at least to her once she had realized that this was what it had to be in retrospect. Not even the faintest worries about her possible wrongdoings had stained her mind that night, not before morning light.  
Exhausted, she ended up closely cuddled up against his chest, mumbling the last sentence she would address to him in half a century.  
"You know," she yawned quietly, "I was just teasing back then. Your grandpa's tie really wasn't all that ugly. Knowing you, I'm sure you have some that are far worse. And it surely would have looked even worse had it been a bow tie."


	8. no sleep til (in) brooklyn

_a/n: welcome back mes amours! so glad you're all still reading and reviewing! We have almost reached the point of __Dan/Cynthia interactions which I know you're all anxious for so good news, spoiler alert: this is the last chapter before they get to meet at last. I felt like we'd have to give Dan a little time to cope, perhaps with a little help from a friend, so this chapter is mostly just him being a mess in New York but there's at least a Dair phone call to top it off. So far, it looks like the next chapter is going to take me a while because I've got a whole lot planned for it (I have already written a bit over 1000 words for it though that consist of probably about a fifth or a fourth of what I want to include in this one) but I'll try not to keep you waiting for the meeting of course. Wish me luck.  
Also hope you didn't mind the flashback chapter not really contributing to the plot too much because I was planning on eventually including a few more small Blair flashbacks that (like those sort of requested via review) would center around Blair's thought processes the morning after, when discovering she's pregnant &amp; just her dealing with pregnancy pretty much on her own and whatnot (some might argue that could be enough material for a separate story but I don't really feel like I could pull that off at this point with the material I already have in mind so yeah, we shall see)  
But yeah, I'd just throw those in whenever muse for them hits me and I think a little filler would do the story some good I suppose.  
Anyway, I hope you'll all enjoy this chapter! I think it surely got me a bit more used to writing Dan's POV because I always felt I was far better at Blair's so hopefully I'll be able to pull him off flawlessly in future chapters where it will be very much needed.  
Also, beware, I'm afraid there might be a few confusing run-on sentences in there but I kind of like a lot of things about this chapter &amp; its structure so much that I wasn't really capable of changing it much. I fail, pls don't kill me.  
Rather prominent guest appearance by Vanessa Abrams xoxo_

* * *

The drive back to New York, though still having the same duration as the drive to Maine as he had taken the exact same route, seemed to fly by.  
The eight hours that had already passed had felt like merely two, perhaps three, to Dan's brooding mind that was preoccupied with matters of far bigger importance than arriving safely. He had been set on finding an old friend - granted, an old flame might be the more fitting term - but, being already at it, had also acquired a daughter.  
It still sounded like a grotesque absurdity to him, a twisted fantasy of his that served as proof of a mild case of insanity.  
But it was true, it had to be.  
He, Dan Humphrey, was the father of Blair Waldorf's daughter. He suddenly had an actual biological daughter, carrying his genes for all the world to see.  
No, not _suddenly._  
He had had her for four years by now, he simply hadn't been aware of it.  
Yet merely three days ago, he had thought these kind of stories only happened in cheesy Hollywood movies. Looked like he couldn't have been more wrong.  
Now that the shapes of home could already be made out from afar, he found himself wishing he had stayed in Cabot Cove straight away. Perhaps it had been a mistake to leave like this, in the middle of the night, not even waiting for dawn which had only set in about an hour ago.  
How Blair must have interpreted his sudden eagerness to leave he could only guess. Most certainly not positively.  
But deep inside, he couldn't help thinking it was the right decision. He needed to sort this out before he could consider making drastic changes to his life.  
It really wasn't that he was too content with how his life had been the past years, not at all.  
Nonetheless, the changes he would possibly make were so unpredictable so far, so confusing that he couldn't even waste any thoughts on them now.  
Not to mention everything had to be arranged with Blair. What if she still didn't want him in hers or her daughter's life for that matter?  
But would she have told him about her if that was the case? As always, she had to be the queen of mixed signals.  
Flashing back to their conversation outside the bar, he could barely contain a quiet sigh.  
She put him into this position in hopes of making his life easier or so it seemed but instead she had made everything so terribly complicated. Yet he couldn't be angry with her. He hadn't even been angered by her secrecy when he had pretty much snapped at her, more so hurt and confused.  
Quite frankly, in the littlest way, he still was.  
At least he now remembered just why leaving immediately had been a great idea after all - with all these thoughts having gained reign of his troubled mind, getting even a minute of sleep would have been impossible anyway.

47 minutes later, Dan's destination had been reached.  
Unlike any rational thinking person, he didn't head straight to his apartment after having tackled a 9-hour-drive all through the night.  
Still convinced that sleep was not an option, he was now entering his workplace, on the way to his boss's office. Luckily for him, his trip appeared to have been perfectly timed as the office building had only just opened a few minutes ago and he knew that Fusco had a habit of being outstandingly early on Fridays with the sole intention of having an excuse to leave hours before anyone else did.  
As he approached the office, he could already spy him behind the glass walls, languidly tapping a pen against the dark wooden surface of his antique desk he had spent far too much of a fortune on to not bless it with regular polishes he was constantly bugging the cleaning personnel about. That dreadful, dull face belonging to such a dreadful, intolerable creature was something he certainly wouldn't miss.  
A swift knock on the door once it had been reached but waiting for a reply was considered optional.  
Dan more barged in than stepped inside, catching Fusco by surprise.

"Humphrey!" He exclaimed, visibly pleased.  
Apparently he was under the impression that he would supply him with the Blair Waldorf story of the century. How wrong he was. Sure, he could if he wanted to but he never would. Not for all the money in the world.

"Good to see you, man. What you got for me? The story we've both been dreaming of?" His sly, rat-like little eyes bore into his as if he was capable of sucking the story out of his brain.

Dan couldn't be fazed by it, staying as collected as he was still capable of being. His appearance probably had him look slightly crazy, thanks to the lack of sleep, but perhaps that was just about fitting this morning.

"No, I'm afraid I don't." He declared casually but with dominating determination. "I won't be able to write this story for you. If you're not as much of an obnoxious rat as I think you to be, no one else working for you will be able to write it either. Actually, I don't think I'll still be capable of writing for you at all. I quit."

Having efficiently breathed fire and brimstone, he vanished from the building again as quickly and quietly as he had entered it, not for a moment looking back. None of his personal belongings, still forgotten in his office, really mattered enough to him to be picked up now, or ever for that matter.

* * *

His next destination once again wasn't his own apartment - instead he had chosen to seek comfort at his old home, the Humphrey loft.  
He hadn't necessarily gone there with the intention of confiding in Rufus, not being up to date with his father's whereabouts, but had he ran into him, he certainly couldn't have gotten around spilling the beans.  
Thankfully, he found the loft abandoned. That would have been quite the conversation - hey dad, guess what? You're a grandpa for real this time! - possibly one that he wasn't ready to have just yet.  
Instead, the way wasn't paved with further obstacles thus he headed straight to his room. Although years had passed since he had moved out, his room had remained untouched, looking almost as if he was still occupying it on a daily basis - as long as you didn't check the empty closet and didn't think him to be much of a reader of course.

His first rational thought today commanded him to let himself fall back onto the bed which he promptly did. Now staring at the ceiling, he began to worry again.  
What had he just done? The right thing, surely. At last, he had stood up for himself and put an end to his petty existence as secret diary writer of his so called 'friends' scandals. That had to be a good thing, there was no denying that. The kind of thing a man responsible enough to be a father should do.  
Then again, he was now unemployed so perhaps it hadn't really been the kind of a thing a man responsible enough to be a father should do. But now it was too late anyway. Maybe he'd start to work on another book, that sounded like a plan. Besides, if he was actually going to be a proper father - and he wanted to be rather desperately - there was no way he could stay here. He'd have to be willing to move to Cabot Cove. One couldn't be present in their child's life if they lived nine hours away no matter how hard they tried.

A loud thud filled the loft and awoke him from his anxiety provoking pondering. Blessed be Vanessa. Before he had driven down here, he had taken the time to text her, hoping she would be willing to meet up later and help him sort through his treacherous train of thoughts. Apparently, being ever supportive, she had already been awake and therefore his phone had been flashing with a quick "when and where?" text once he had arrived.

Sitting up on his bed, he waited patiently for her to find him and instantly realized why he had chosen to come here instead of going to his own apartment. This was his safe place, as Blair had called Cabot Cove. Countless memories had been made here, in this very building, in this very room - now he could add the time he impregnated Blair Waldorf to the list, what great accomplishment. But most importantly, it made him feel free of worries now that he didn't live here anymore. It made him feel seventeen all over again and simply generally nostalgic. Coincidentally, Vanessa must have been feeling nostalgic as well considering her old-fashioned way of entering.

"Okay Dan." Vanessa began as she wandered into the room. "What's so important that you need to talk to me in person? Not that I'm not happy to see you but-" she broke off once she sat beside him and had gotten to study him closely. "God, you look awful. Under-eye circles for days. What happened?" She asked with knit brows, concern laced through her voice.

Attempting to find the right words, Dan shook his head. "Nothing of great importance. Blair just neglected to inform me that I am the father of her daughter for nearly five years."

* * *

Vanessa's expression could only be described as that of utter shock. At first, she struggled to even reply in a full, coherent sentence but soon enough, they got to tackle all her burning questions including "how?", "why?", "are you sure?" and "what the actual fuck, Dan?"

No longer at a loss for words but definitely at a loss for advice, she ordered him to take a nap and once he had gotten some rest, she would pick him up for a walk. Perhaps that would clear his mind.

Naturally, he knew that protesting wasn't an option and therefore obeyed. Sleep still didn't come easy to him and once it came, it resumed to provide him with dreams filled with memories of his last night with Blair five years ago, of the note she had left him the morning after (_**"I always liked to believe that in the movie's universe, Holly took a few days to reassess hers and Paul's possible relationship before they actually ended up together for good. A girl has to sort out her business first after all. Wish me luck - B. PS: I'll make sure to return that awful jacket to you once I no longer need it in order to not freeze to death." **_\- he never did get that jacket back) which he still had stored somewhere, either in a copy of Breakfast at Tiffany's or The Beautiful and Damned, of the days they had spent together this week and lastly, the photo of their daughter.  
Even in dreams it still felt odd to call the adorable little girl that he was yet to meet, that was still a stranger to him, _his_ daughter but surprisingly, he was already getting used to it.

At least slightly rested, he called Vanessa and half an hour later, they were strolling through Central Park. Her reasoning behind this remained a mystery to him but it felt like a possible goodbye to NYC by enjoying one of its most famous sights once more. Furthermore, it reminded him of Blair so much that he was more than willing to talk - or at least all of his concerns just so happened to bubble out of his mouth.

"It's just- it's so overwhelming, you know?" He finished with a sigh. "I don't even know what to think anymore or how to act or how to even feel about this and it's threatening to eat me up alive. Everything just seems so complicated but also like there could be an easy solution and I'm just-" He broke off again, trying to find the right words but failing miserably. "I don't know, I just don't know what to do. I feel as helpless as a two-year-old." He scoffed, rubbing his temples. The fact that he was on his third cup of coffee by now hadn't had a positive effect on his rambling habit, that was for sure.

Until then, Vanessa had listened to him in silence but after another sip of coffee was right on cue to reply.

"Dan," she began calmly, "first of all, relax. I know, you probably can't and that's really no surprise. You and Blair haven't talked anything through at all because your first instinct was to run. You-"

"I didn't _run_, I had to fix this work situation." Dan argued slightly offended, thereby cutting her off.

Not that Vanessa was having any of it.

"Daniel, it is not your time to speak now." She informed him sharply. "No more rude interruptions please when I'm trying so hard to fix your mess for you."

Taking a deep, nearly dramatic breath, she finally continued:

"You don't even know if Blair really wants you in the picture, Dan. My guess is on at least a small part of her wanting you around or she would have simply lied to you. You know what she's like." Rolling her eyes, she carried on a little more timidly upon feeling his deceitful gaze on her after the minor insult. "Anyway, your biggest problem right now is that you haven't gotten around to clarify anything and that's what makes you so clueless. The whole ordeal about currently living nine hours apart and your child already being four and whatnot only comes in a close second. So what you have to tackle first is this lack of communication between you two. Talk to her. Call her. Drive back tomorrow morning maybe. Not today, you're still in no condition." She made sure to add firmly.

After a very brief pause, her voice grew softer:

"As for step two, I recommend the following: make her understand how badly you want to be in her life because that's what you want, don't even try to deny it. You're probably already dreaming of your wedding or something but don't come on too strong. Now that a child is in the picture, it's understandable that she might be reluctant to take risks in the form of pursuing a relationship so what's most important is that you make it clear that you're fine with being just friends as long as you get to be in your daughter's life." Swallowing deeply, she came to her conclusion. "And there we have it, I guess. Bye bye Brooklyn, hello Maine."

Dan was left speechless. Trying to process everything she had advised him to do took him a moment but he realized nearly instantly that she was making perfect sense.  
Once again, he couldn't be more grateful to have her as a friend. Most of his former friendships had slowly cooled down to close acquaintances but that hadn't been the case with Vanessa. Matter of fact, she had been the only one he could really rely on throughout the past years.

"Vanessa... Do you even realize you're the greatest friend one could ever ask for?"

"Yeah, so I've heard." She grinned, shrugging nonchalantly prior to pulling him into a tight hug. "You'll figure it out, you'll see," she whispered, "and if there's still something giving you sleepless nights in the end, you know where to find me."

Pulling back, she playfully punched his arm. "Now go get the girl. We both know you're desperate to."

* * *

In the evening, Dan had finally arrived at his own apartment but it simply didn't offer the same comfort as the loft had. It only served as proof of the last five years he had wasted in oblivion, digging for dirt for his grotty boss when he could have actually tried to make a change with his writing.  
But, come to think of it, writing anything that required depth hadn't come as naturally to him recently.  
After Blair had vanished from view, he had been disappointed to say the least. Who wouldn't be after receiving such a note, right? (After Vanessa had left with the tickets for the thing they decided he still wasn't in the right mind to attend in spite of being here, he had set out to find it and eventually stumbled across it in a copy of Pnin)  
Who could really blame him? At first, he had tried to write but not a single word seemed to want to spend the rest of an eternity on paper.  
The next step had been to flee from reality and lose himself in literature that appeared to have put his feelings into words the way he had failed to. ("Tell her that my system is poisoned by her, by her twenty sisters, her twenty dwindlings in backcast, and that I shall perish if I cannot have her" had been one of his personal favorites at the time)

If he was being honest, all of that had only dragged him down further until he had finally reread everything that could possibly come remotely close to describing his situation and he had felt forced to move on, having ran out of ailments.  
At this point, he was already itching to fall back into old habits but he wouldn't allow himself to. It wouldn't do anyone any good, least of all himself.  
Thus, sitting on his bed and having reread her note time and time again, he finally found the courage to call.  
She picked up at the second ring, a hint of hopeless devastation in her voice as he heard his name being called on the other line.

"Yeah uh, it's me." He replied awkwardly.

"Hi." Now Blair's voice sounded like a soft sigh of relief.

"Hi."

Momentarily, silence emerged but although it could be considered awkward, it couldn't yet be considered uncomfortable.

Blair cleared her throat, still sounding slightly nasal:

"So have you taken care of what you had to do?"

"Yeah, that's all taken care of." He assured her quickly, swallowing. "Look, Blair, I guess I've left a bit too rapidly. I was just... Overwhelmed, you know? But we've left so many open questions unanswered that I really just assumed you'd want me around when in reality I don't even know if you do."

"I do." She threw in hurriedly before he could say another word. "I mean, only if you want to of course. What I don't want is for you to feel obliged to integrate us into your life just because it sounds like the right thing to do."

"Good," he decided to simply ignore her further explanations, "because I could never just pretend I didn't find out and I earnestly want to be there, I swear. I'm a little scared of it to be frank but I do want to be there as long as you let me."

She appeared to be releasing a deep breath she must have been holding, perhaps unconsciously, while awaiting his reply but then resumed to voice her confusion:

"Scared? Really? There's absolutely no reason for you to be. I mean, you've kind of done the whole parenting thing before and there's no way she won't absolutely adore you."

"You can't be sure of that." Dan sighed quietly, rubbing his temples. "As a baby, you don't really have a choice but once you're four, I'm sure it's not unlikely you can't stand a guy who randomly appears attempting to play daddy all of a sudden."

"Dan," her tone was now firm and disabusing, "believe me, there's no way she isn't going to like you. She's basically just like you, not only when it comes to her looks. And she knows I'm to blame for you not being around any sooner so that won't be held against you."

This slightly eased his concerns but he still wasn't exactly confident enough to not worry at all. However, the thought of their daughter not only looking but apparently also being a lot like him, although she had not been influenced by him in the least, caused the corners of his mouth to curl up into a small smile.

"Well, that's reassuring. Kind of." He chuckled quietly. "Still, can we meet before we actually meet? I mean, just you and me for a bit. To talk. Clarify a few things maybe."

"Sure." Blair replied softly even though the word 'clarify' seemed to slightly wreck her nerves. "When are you coming back to town?"

"Tomorrow." He decided in a split second. "Presumably... Let's see... Around three?"

"Okay." Apparently, his return occurring so early had caught her off guard just the littlest bit. "Okay, that's actually perfect. You remember that little Italian we had dinner at, right? Let's just meet there around three. But at four, I'll take you home, alright?"

"Sounds like a plan." Dan nodded although she couldn't see it.

"Perfect," A short pause before she asked a little more shyly, "and you're definitely coming? You won't stand me up or anything?"

"Of course not." He protested in confusion. "Blair, I'll swear on my life that I'll come if you want me to."

"Okay good." She seemed to calm down immediately. "Good. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow at three." He confirmed, letting a small yawn slip as the caffeine was finally wearing off. "Which is why I better get some sleep now."

"Do that. I don't want you to get killed on the way here." Blair appeared to have regained her usual teasing edge. "Sleep well."

* * *

After they had exchanged their goodbyes, she couldn't have been more relieved. Though still thoroughly unsure about what the future may bring, this already felt like a huge step forward and the fact that she had given up on keeping her secret from the person that was involved in it the most finally had her feeling like a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders, now that it seemed like she hadn't completely ruined everything with her silly, childish secrecy.

Putting her phone down, she slowly made her way back to the living room where Dorota and Cynthia had patiently waited for her return since her phone had rang. Sitting down next to her daughter, she couldn't keep herself from smiling.

"C, how would you feel about meeting your dad tomorrow afternoon?"


	9. saturday meeting fever

_a/n: and I'm back with the long-awaited meeting between Dan &amp; Cynthia, loves! It took me literally until now to finish this because I had so much plotted out for this chapter and I actually ended up cutting some stuff out or else it would have turned into 10,000 to 20,000 words and still be unfinished. So yeah, I've had to tone their meeting down somewhat but there's another one coming up that will probably be a bit more fun so I hope you can forgive me. There was just a lot of Dair business that still needed to be tackled in this one before they could even meet and that made this chapter incredibly lengthy. Plans for the next one are another shorter flashback interlude because I need some rest after writing this now hahah. I'll also be very busy the next few weeks which means I might have to limit myself to one update per week but I'll try my best to update at least once a week. If I don't manage to, please be patient with me - I'm definitely not dropping this story just yet because I have tons of muse for it and very clear visions for plenty of future chapters so far. Now, I hope this makes sense because I haven't reread it in its entirety again since I've been working on it for nearly six days and of course that you'll enjoy it and won't be let down by their first encounter. I'm really looking forward to exploring Cynthia as a character in the upcoming chapters a little more as well.  
As per usual, kudos to everyone giving me feedback in the form of reviews and even in follows and faves xoxo_

* * *

On Saturday morning, Blair was awoken almost as early as Dan had had to get up in order to actually be capable of arriving at three pm. This time however, the offender had not been Dorota but her own daughter who had lunged onto her bed like a little curly-haired ball of energy and woken her up in the process.

"Mommy, get up. We ought to get ready. Today's our big day." She commanded excitedly, tugging on her arm.

Blair groaned, freeing herself from her grip. "C, it's far too early. I won't even bring him over before four." She muttered, tossing herself to the other side of the bed nearly violently.

Cynthia simply shrugged. "A girl has to be prepared to perfection in advance. You know who always told me that, mommy? You did."

"Your dad is from Brooklyn, sweetie, he doesn't expect perfection." She grumbled in response, pulling her pillow over her head once her daughter began to poke her arm. "He wouldn't know it if it slapped him in the face. Now let me sleep. Just another hour."

"Pleeeease." Cynthia whined, pouting although she was shielded from her mother's view. "I just really want to do something pretty to my hair and you know what it's like."

Defeated, Blair tossed the pillow aside which was sufficiently caught by her daughter and sat up, wiping her eyes. "Alright, alright. But believe me, he'll like it the most if you just leave it wild and unruly."

Visibly satisfied, Cynthia hopped off the bed and waited for her mother to join her.

"Dorota," Blair called as she grumpily left her room to follow to her daughter's, "what have you done to my daughter that she is up at such an ungodly hour? Have you fed her tons of sugar again?"

"No, Miss Blair, I don't give Miss Cynthia anything." The accused protested from downstairs, apparently already in the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

"Whatever, just don't let it happen again." B scoffed upon entering C's room, her eyes still in need of adjustment to the bright light. "Alright, what are you going to wear?" She asked sweetly.

"I'm still undecided." The small girl sighed dramatically, motioning to two dresses she had spread out on her already made bed, one of them cream-coloured with a soft blue flower print, the other a light pink and lilac plaid print topped off with a small amount of lace.

Her mother struggled to keep a straight face. "Definitely this one." She pointed at the plaid option. "Ready to move on to the hair already?"

Cynthia nodded excitedly. "You don't think we should put it up?"

"Definitely not." She shook her head no. "Just leave it the way it is."

"Okay." The girl frowned for a moment, now in deep thought. "Then you ought to help me pick a headband."

"Oh, I'm voting for the most extravagant headband you have." Blair grinned. Witnessing his daughter's headband infatuation first hand should serve as Humphrey's punishment for stripping her off her beauty sleep without even being physically present.

Cynthia took her time picking out the greatest matching headband of all but still didn't seem to be perfectly pleased. "Mom, are you sure that's the best we can do?" She sighed, nervously running her hand through her curls.

Her mother knelt beside her, her brows knit from concern: "It's perfect, C. You're nervous, aren't you, sweetie?" She asked soothingly. "About today?"

Sighing again, she confirmed her worries with a shy nod. "Do you think he might not like me?" She asked quietly.

Blair immediately shook her head, then cupped her cheeks to make her face her. "Cynthia, that's not even an option, do you hear me? He won't just _like_ you, he'll adore you. Just like I do. You'll see." After kissing her forehead, she raised a questioning eyebrow. "Alright?"

The girl nodded, a small smile now on her lips. "Alright." She playfully rolled her eyes, much like her father would. "Can you still help me pick the right shoes? Because I want them to both match the dress and the headband but kind of more the headband so that it's full circle, you know?"

"Of course." Blair giggled, not even surprised by her daughter sounding presumably four times her age. "It would be a tragedy if they didn't match the headband."

* * *

Mere minutes before three, Dan pulled into the Seaside Inn's parking lot once again, hurrying to unload his luggage. Although he had left in the heat of the moment, not to mention in the middle of the night, he hadn't neglected to ask the elderly lady in charge of the inn, Mrs Davenport, if she could perhaps keeps his old room reserved for him for the next two days - though skeptical at first, she had been too kind to disagree.

Upon entering the lobby, he was already greeted by her surprised sounding voice.  
"Back so soon, Mr Humphrey? You would have had another day." She joked, already preparing the paperwork to sign him in again.

"Yeah but I prefer being punctual to being fashionably late." He chuckled as he set his suitcase down.

Mrs Davenport offered him a nod of approval. "Very honorable. How long do you plan on staying this time?"

Now that was something Dan hadn't really thought about before. How long was he going to stay? A few days? A week? Forever?

"Uh, at least a week I guess. Would that work?" He asked nervously.  
Being as unsure about your future as he currently was was beginning to suck. Not to mention he'd run out of funds eventually if he didn't find work here and all the while, he was still paying rent for his Brooklyn apartment. So many worries, so little time to actually worry.  
Actually, none right now. He was already late to meet Blair since he still had to bring his suitcase upstairs.

"Of course." Her voice was a friendly chirp as she handed him a pen, closely watching him fill out what had been left blank. "So things have been going well with Miss Waldorf I presume?" She then asked rather casually.

At first, his thoughts were stained by a certain skepticism, almost leaving him feel as if she was being judgmental but he soon found a logical explanation for her curiosity. After all, he had asked her for directions to Blair's boutique when he first arrived here.

On second thought, he had to realize that the resemblance was big enough that if anyone had seen both him and his daughter, they could probably put one and one together which made him feel strangely uncomfortable. Whatever people might think of him. Probably that he abandoned Blair when she was pregnant and was now crawling back to her or something equally degrading.

Nonetheless, he put on a brave face. "I guess you could say that, yeah." He nodded.  
Well enough for him to be willing to give up on his old life in its entirety at least.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Blair had arrived at La Fontana before him, quietly sipping her water. Though she had gotten a rather peaceful night of sleep until she had been so rudely awoken by Cynthia, yesterday's nervousness was slowly resurfacing with every minute past three and a lack of his appearance, stronger so than before. If he wasn't going to turn up now that she had getting an innocent little girl's hopes up who was only hoping to finally have a paternal figure in her young life, she would drive down all the way to Brooklyn herself and castrate him. Then possibly torture him a little more and eventually put his miserable petty existence to a justified end. No court on this planet would be able to convict her. But luckily, for Dan's life and her criminal record, she finally spotted him approaching the trattoria, seven minutes late. Perhaps he could still be forgiven.

Looking mildly disheveled, he slipped into the booth across from her, offering her a nervous smile. On the way here, he hadn't been able to shake this disrupting feeling that he was the secret center of attention and all of Cabot Cove's eyes were on him. Nothing but paranoia, possibly, but it still hadn't ceased to disturb him.

Blair returned the smile in greeting even though hers could be considered a little more confident. "Humphrey."

"Waldorf."

Her glass was ridded of another sip of water. "I'm really glad you're here." She admitted softly.

"There's no way I wouldn't have come." He shrugged as if there really had not been another option – and quite frankly, there hadn't for him.

"Good. Because I don't know what I would have done otherwise." She stated truthfully, momentarily biting her lip. "I told Cynthia that you wanted to meet her last night and I think the last time I saw her that excited was when I took her to Disneyland."  
A soft giggle slipped but as she noticed that Dan, though unable to keep himself from smiling, only seemed to feel more pressured by her revelation, she hurried to add: "But believe me, she's just as nervous about this as you if not more so. She's actually afraid you won't like her, can you believe that?"

He couldn't. "How could I not like her?" He shook his head. "I already more than like her and I've only seen a single photo of her for roughly ten seconds."

"You'll love her as soon as you get to know her." Blair decided.

"Because she's so much like me, yeah? That should make it easy." He grinned. "Although I really have a hard time believing that, I have to be honest with you there. Maybe she just has the traits we have in common as well."

A sly smile grazed her lips and her reply hit like a pistol shot. "When she was sick once, she wanted me to read to her and immediately picked The Great Gatsby. Now tell me that's not mini-you."

Baffled, he gave in. "Certainly. Did you read it to her?"

"Of course not." She frowned. "She's far too young for Fitzgerald."

"Excuse me, you're never too young for Fitzgerald." He protested. "This is just about the perfect age to start."

Blair shook her head in disbelief. "You are not going to spoil her little mind with what you consider to be great American literature already."

Dan shrugged. "I won't make any promises." He replied innocently.

Slowly but surely, he was starting to feel far more at ease with the situation in its entirety. His daughter sounded more and more wonderful with every passing minute which caused the nervousness to slowly ebb away and be replaced with an anxiousness to finally meet her. Now that he was calmer, he cared to address more theoretical issues.

"So I was wondering if you were going to let me sign an AOP," he asked carefully, "Because I'd just really like to make it official."  
Upon saying that, another burning question pushed forward and demanded to be asked immediately, making him awkwardly point between them. "How many people like... _know_ anyway?"

"Only Dorota actually knows." Blair was quick to clarify. "But of course C has met her grandparents on my side and well, I suppose they might have spotted the resemblance. But I've never confirmed anything."  
It was only then that it really hit her that they would probably have to go public now. He would want to introduce her to his parents and maybe his sister who could never keep her mouth shut and everything would go downhill. She could only hope that they'd find a way to keep it a secret anyway. Or was there even any use in that still, now that he knew? Not as much but she definitely still didn't want her daughter to ever encounter Chuck Bass or anyone like him.  
For a moment, she was too carried away to speak but she soon remembered that he had asked a different question first.  
"Oh and I'd love you to sign one, of course. We should do that as soon as possible."  
She'd just leave out the fact that she had secretly wanted him to sign one so desperately although he wasn't even aware of anything when she was in labor that she had illegally sneaked his name onto the birth certificate - kind of.  
"If you insist on one, I'd absolutely be up for a paternity test as well so that you don't end up being declared the legal father of a stranger's child again." She more joked than earnestly offered.

Dan happily shook his head, apparently not having thought her to be crazy enough to pursue such acts of insanity. "I highly doubt anyone else could have fathered such a wonderful child." He announced sarcastically and instead took a liking in her nicknaming choices. "Wait - you call her C? Really, Blair?"

"Why not?" She protested, nearly offended. "Cynthia seems short but it can be quite a mouthful."

"How come you chose that name anyway?" He inquired curiously.

She shrugged. "I thought it should start with a C and liked Cynthia best. Because, you know, B and D." She rolled her eyes. "You should get it, being a writer."

"Oh, I do." Dan grinned back at her.  
If he was to say he wasn't slightly honored by being passively integrated in her name picking process, he would be the world's worst liar.  
Checking his watch, he found it to already be 3:45 - and he was more than ready to forget about the fifteen more minutes he had originally intended on waiting and to leave for Blair's house straight away.  
Just about to suggest that, he was cut short by her.  
While he had been distracted, she had nervously played with the charm on her necklace, still unsure if she shouldn't just leave this topic unaddressed for now. But she couldn't. There were so many things they had still avoided talking about, this one shouldn't be one of them.

"Dan, when you said you loved me all this time and you still do, did you mean it?" She blurted out, her eyes boring into his.

So this was it. The moment he had been anxious about ever since Vanessa had advised him to clarify that a romantic relationship was absolutely optional for him. Too bad that his first instinct was to suggest getting married next month. Hey, it didn't sound quite as insane as long as you kept in mind there was already a child in the picture.  
But he didn't. He tried his best to stay composed and luckily succeeded.

"I was but I can love you in many ways, Blair." He told her with surprising confidence. "I would never make my being here and supporting you dependent on whether you want to be with me that way or not. If you do, that's absolutely wonderful. Best case scenario. But if you don't, that won't change a thing. I'll just be happy to love you as a friend and to co-parent with you as much as you let me. I just want you to know that and to not feel pressured in the least."

In spite of his collected demeanor, he was inwardly freaking out, a tiny bit more so with every passing second that was filled with silence. But silence was exactly what Blair needed right now as she was trying to find the right words to articulate her point of view. The fact that he was giving her a choice alone was rather comforting but it still wasn't easy for her to stop worrying completely, if not impossible.  
"I'm glad you feel this way. Very glad." She swallowed. "And I hope you'll understand my reasoning for wanting to just stay friends with you regardless of my feelings for you. I consider it too big of a risk to simply try our luck at a romantic relationship when we have our daughter to take care of. If we ended up falling apart and hurting her in the process, I would never be able to forgive myself." Sighing quietly, she shyly lowered her gaze. "So I'm hoping you'll be willing to raise her with me in amity. As of now, I just see that as the best and safest solution."

As if he couldn't have guessed it. He should have. A small, romantically clouded part of him had been hopeful regardless of all logic. But he wouldn't let that part rule over his emotions now.  
"I do understand that perfectly." He assured her with a brave smile. "And I agree, definitely. It's risky and I'm sure we already have enough risks coming towards us at this point, we don't need to add another one ourselves."

Evidently, he had lifted a huge weight off Blair's shoulders, a relieved smile serving as proof, not to mention the held breath she was now releasing.  
"Oh, thank God." She whispered, not yet addressing him until she raised her voice. "Thank you. Really. It means a lot to me that you understand. It's really nothing personal either. I mean, if this could work out with anyone, it would be with you." Noticing that she was straying a little too far from her original point, she quickly decided to change topics.  
"So, can we leave already? Are you ready?"

An eager nod on Dan's side served as confirmation. Finally leaving and facing the biggest change of his entire life was exactly the kind of distraction he needed right now.  
On the way out, he remembered something petty that had been on his mind since yesterday and decided to simply ask in an attempt to lighten the mood.  
"By the way, I stumbled upon that note you left me back in the day again yesterday and it left a very important question unanswered."

Blair raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Oh? You stumbled upon it?" She sneered sarcastically.

"Yeah yeah, I used it as a bookmark apparently. I tend to use random notes sometimes." He tried to play it down. Of course he hadn't been searching for it for an hour, not at all. "Anyway, that jacket you found so awful - you never did return it so I was wondering whatever happened to it. It ended up in an Upper East Side trash can, didn't it?"

"Actually, no." She laughed. "You'll get it back. Five years late but you'll get it back. It should be at the darkest spot of my closet. I couldn't just throw it out out of fear that it was another one of your late grandpa's tasteful pieces and that you'd hate me forever for getting rid of it."

Dan was astonished, for sure, but frankly, more than pleased with the prospect of getting his jacket back. "It wasn't my grandpa's but I'm still very grateful for your efforts. It still happened to be my favourite. Went really well with grandpa's tie, you know." He grinned, gaining himself a scolding look.

In the parking lot, Blair instructed him to follow her Prius, meaning he would finally get to witness her drive first-hand. This was going to be interesting. But not quite as interesting as what was about to come once they had reached their destination.

* * *

Blair's house in Orchard Street was only a short drive from the restaurant and her driving happened to be a lot better than Dan ever would have expected it to be. Talk about formerly neglected skills.  
In daylight, the light blue colonial style home the Waldorfs inhibited looked even more inviting than it had with the moon serving as its backdrop, nearly too cosy and somewhat laid back to be Blair's residence of choice.  
This time, he made it past the gate – naturally.  
Once they had reached the front door, she threw him a meaningful look, one that managed to convey two very different messages at the same time – 'there's no need to be worried, everything's going to be fine' and 'if you upset my daughter in any way, I'll skin you alive'.  
A quick nod from his side and she unlocked the door.  
The hall was kept in a welcoming white and flooded with light, seemingly trying to tell you to stay a while upon entering. The more he took in his surroundings, the more could he picture himself living here – only that chances for that actually happening were about as slim as they could be now.

Before he could even waste a thought on his daughter's whereabouts, he was left to deal with another female who was mustering him as if he was personified deceit.

"Mister Dan." She greeted him coolly, only offering a brief, displeased nod.

He swallowed but tried not to let his growing discomfort show. "Dorota."

Dorota remained unmoved, frowned once more and suddenly rushed up to him. Bracing himself for the worst, he was pleasantly surprised when he found himself being pulled into a hug.

"Oh, come here, stupid Brooklyn boy." She muttered. "Do you see what happens when you don't go after girl just because she don't call anymore? You don't do that if you care." She informed him scoldingly. "Just leaves me to deal with Miss Blair's moods, tss. You owe me, Mister Dan, big time."

"Uh yeah, I'll try my best to make up for it." He mumbled, awkwardly patting her back until she let go, much to his relief.

Free to move again, he turned to risk a glance at the stairs – only to find that his daughter had made her way down in the meantime and was now eyeing him curiously, in complete silence. The resemblance was even more uncanny than it had been on the photo. If he were to reach out and touch one of her curls, he was nearly certain it would feel the exact same way his did. The plaid print on her dress most certainly matched one of his shirts and he had never seen more defined cheek bones on a child her age.  
Too mesmerized to speak, he opened his mouth but barely even managed to close it again as they made eye contact.

Luckily for him, Cynthia hadn't lost her voice as well and decided to greet him with a simple "Hi".

"Hi." He returned the favour, feeling equally as awkward as he used to on all of his first days at a new school. Only that the pressure you put on yourself to be liked by the cool kids was nothing compared to how you felt if you had to hope for your daughter to like you.

The small girl tilted her head to the side, her eyes never straying from him. "So… you're my dad?" She asked as if she was in need of additional confirmation.

A small laugh slipped with his response: "I suppose that would be me, yeah."

Cynthia nodded, seemingly convinced and finally shooting him a content smile. "Would you like to see my room?" She proceeded to ask casually, hurriedly turning to Blair. "I can show him my room, right?"

"Of course." Her mother nodded cheerfully. "We can all go up right now if you want."

"Actually," she frowned, "I would like us to be alone. That's okay, right?"

Blair and Dan exchanged a quick look. She made it rather obvious that this wasn't at all how she had planned their first encounter but nonetheless she wasn't going to interfere, instead grazing the two of them with a defeated nod.  
"Sure, sweetie." She mumbled sweetly.

Thoroughly pleased, Cynthia turned back to Dan. "Oooh, would you play Barbie with me?" She asked in a sudden flash of excitement.

"Uh yeah, absolutely." He willingly agreed, already set to follow upstairs when Blair held him back.

"You can absolutely tell her you'd rather not, you know. She has to learn to take no for an answer anyway." She told him quietly but he only shook his head in amusement.

"Blair, I had a little sister to entertain. Playing Barbie is basically my secret speciality."

* * *

Upstairs, he got to enter a room belonging to a four-year-old that looked nearly exactly like he had imagined Blair's daughter's room to look like one day: princess-y and glamorous but still a timeless classic. Cynthia had already been blessed with a vanity that was currently overflowing with headbands – apparently the love for a good hair accessory was one trait she had inherited from her mother.  
At second glance however, the room appeared to be rather toned down for Blair's usually expensive taste. She wasn't living on a budget here, was she? Surely, her family would be supportive of a single mother like her who wasn't even receiving child support payments from the oblivious father.  
Dan was led to sit on the floor near her bed where he had to wait patiently while the Barbies were brought out to play. Now, how exactly were you supposed to make conversation with your four-year-old daughter during your first ever meeting without sounding terribly awkward?

"That's a pretty nice room you have there." He noted truthfully, looking around a bit more. Apparently, she had already been decked out with the right role models, judging by the huge print of Audrey Hepburn posing as Holly Golightly next to her bed as well as the slightly smaller one of Marilyn Monroe next to her vanity. The irony of decking her room out with anything Breakfast at Tiffany's related nearly made him laugh.

"Thank you." Cynthia chirped politely, nearly done picking out the Barbies of the day. "It's not as nice as my room in France but mommy always says the rooms you only live in on vacation are meant to be prettier so that it feels more special." She frowned, seemingly not sharing her mother's views.

"You've been to France already?" He asked with raised brows. It sure sounded like she had gotten around by now. Disneyland, France… perhaps they hadn't wanted to spend too much on the room because they were always on the go.

The girl nodded excitedly. "We go there every Christmas to celebrate. On my last birthday as well." Her brows knit as she looked up at Dan again. "Is it weird that I have three grandpas? Because mom thinks I shouldn't worry about it but all the kids in day care think I should only have two." A small frown grazed her lips as she waited for a reply.

"I don't think it's all that weird. At least not in our day and age." He shook his head. "And actually, you have four. My dad is also your grandpa, you know."

"Four?" She gasped quietly. "And still only one grandma?"

"Oh no, I can supply you with an additional grandma as well." He chuckled. "Just to even it out a little."

Visibly relieved, she shot him a sweet smile. "Now that sounds good." She chirped, busily picking out a Barbie for herself before stopping in her tracks again, her tone becoming shyer. "So, should I, like, call you dad or…?"

Dan took a moment to respond. "Well, if you want to, sure. I mean, that's what I am so why not, right?" He chuckled nervously. "But you don't have to, of course. Only if you want to."

In response, Cynthia pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side, mimicking being in deep thought. "Yeah, I think I'll call you dad." She decided casually.

Ostensibly struggling to hide his excitement and very tempted to grin like a fool, Dan was luckily offered distraction as he was handed a brunette Barbie.

"You'll be Lola, okay?" His daughter requested in the sweetest tone.

"Sure." He agreed obediently, closely mustering the Barbie of choice. "What's her deal?"

"She's veeery artistic." Cynthia explained. "She paints a lot and wants to make a living by just selling her paintings and designing jewelry but it hasn't really worked out for her yet."

"I see." Dan chuckled, thoroughly impressed by that little backstory. If she had those for all of them, she had to be overflowing with creativity. "The struggling artist, easy to pull off. So," he took another close look at his doll's outfit, "mismatching stockings is just her artistically expressing herself?"

"Yep, you get it." Cynthia agreed proudly. "She thinks she's so cool and rebellious dressing like that but in reality, nobody can take her seriously and everybody just thinks she's not very bright. But Jenny likes her anyway." She motioned to her own doll whose lavish blonde locks she was lovingly brushing in the meantime.

His ears peeked up at the mention of the name. "Jenny sounds really sweet then. What's she like?"

"She is, she's my favorite for a reason." The girl grinned. "I even named her after myself. It's my middle name. I wish it was my first."

"Really?" He interrupted her in surprise. "Jenny is my sister's name."

"So I have an aunt as well?" She gasped, clapping her hands together. "Mom must really like her."

"Uh yeah... Very much." Dan nearly choked on the taste of his lie but Cynthia didn't seem to notice.  
Instead she went on to explain that Jenny understood Lola in many ways since she was an artist as well - at least she tried to be one as a hobby whenever she wasn't busy with her high class news reporter job.  
Shortly thereafter, Jenny tried to make it up to Lola that her questionable taste in stockings would never get her anywhere - gently of course - but the latter wasn't having it. Since neither of the girls was up for a heated debate, Lola eventually suggested going to 'a gallery or something' but the two ended up heading to the library first because Jenny thought literature to be 'the driving force behind our modern society and its existence to be essential in order for our culture to continue existing'. Where a four-year-old had picked up such phrases - not to mention she seemed to know what they mean - was a mystery to Dan and left him to observe her every move in awe. In most of them, he recognized Blair but a limited few still happened to be very similar to some of his unconscious habits.

* * *

Meanwhile, Blair was displaying one of her unconscious nervous habits downstairs were she tended to pace around the kitchen aisle only to momentarily come to a halt, seemingly about to calm down and then to repeat it all again.  
Dorota's soothing words had no effect on her whatsoever as she was very well aware of her behavior being silly and most likely unfounded.  
This was Dan she was stressing over, unnecessarily so. He was doing fine, for sure. He would never dare to upset their daughter in any way and he knew how to handle kids. The audible sounds coming from upstairs very much spoke for her all-is-going-well-theory as well.  
Yet she remained restless, having been too set on her seemingly fool-proof plan of supervising their first encounter. To tell the truth, she simply didn't know what to do with herself until it finally hit her, the ultimate excuse to intrude prior to announcing dinner - she'd just have to find that awful jacket first.

* * *

Upstairs, Dan and Cynthia were indeed still doing fine.  
Once Lola and Jenny had been shipped off to the library, it had been revealed that she was working on her debut novel in secret and wanted to create memorable literature that would still be read longer after her death one day but so far, she was still settling for a novel that could easily be adapted as a rom-com script one day.  
In spite of her tender age, C already had the art of small talk mastered and therefore casually questioned Dan about what being a writer was like and eventually about each and every family member on his side she hadn't met before.  
To be frank, if you were just talking on the phone to her, you would easily believe her to be three times her age, if not four, and he found that to be mildly intimidating but at the same time, it seemed to make things easier. Talking to a child of her age had been considered a nearly unmanageable issue prior to their encounter since her age group really wasn't his usual clientèle. Babies, those were alright. He could handle them well, for sure. But kids who were able to speak and be opinionated? Risky business he wasn't usually willing to indulge in as long as it came to strangers' kids. Of course it would have been a whole different story with his own kid no matter what she would have been like - or so he liked to pretend. Good thing he didn't have to find out.

After listening keenly to his elaborations, the girl wished she would have blessed Jenny with a storyline involving design but even more that she could meet her newly-discovered relatives soon. How exactly that could be pulled off, he was oblivious to but he already knew that he'd have to insist on her meeting Rufus so that should be easily arranged.  
In return, Cynthia told him about her family experiences so far that mostly seemed to happen in France, rarely elsewhere. One time, she had gotten to visit her grandma in the UES but she didn't recall the trip being enjoyable in the least. Not only was it brief but most of it was spent indoors in Dorota's company.

"Mommy just doesn't like being there anymore, you know?" She sighed dramatically to stress her point. "It's exhausting because she'll get really angry and sad and everything. But maybe it'll get better now." She added in a hopeful but also slightly doubtful tone. "She's been really sad the last few days as well but that's over now, right? Because you're here and you're not mad at her."

"Of course I'm not mad at her." He shook his head, of course very much aware of what she was referring to. "She thought she was doing the right thing and I can't be mad at her for that. That's just the way I know her, to be honest. Why, are you?"

"Nah, I'm not." Cynthia shrugged. "I mean, life's been okay for me so far. And I've heard that looking back, I'm not supposed to really remember much that happened before I was three so if you look at it that way, I really only had one year in which I didn't know you." She mused.

After initial confusion, he managed to see her point - if she couldn't be considered a smart kid, no kid could. He'd definitely have to address this situation when he got a chance to talk to Blair alone for all of their sakes.  
Speaking of the devil, a short knock on the door interrupted them as they were just about to send Lola and Jenny to the mall – apparently you could easily run out of lip balm at the library plus one could always use a new headband, a thought that made his stomach twist – and alerted them of Blair's arrival.

"Dinner's ready in ten. " She announced sweetly, then began to only address Dan. "Dorota insists on you joining us so I wouldn't try to fight her if I were you. Oh and I've got something for you. Catch." Wiggling her brows, she triumphantly tossed the long forgotten jacket at him. "Told you I still had that excruciatingly ugly thing somewhere."

Baffled, he ran his fingers across the fabric. "God, it really is _it._ Considering you kept it from me for five years, you probably didn't even find it that excruciatingly ugly. Just stop lying to yourself." He teased as he tried it on again.

Blair rolled her eyes. "It's awful. It looks like the typical Brooklyn jacket. Nothing good comes from Brooklyn." She scoffed playfully, already on her way out again.

"Blair, please, don't say that in front of our daughter." His joke was accompanied by a wide grin and gained him a judgmental stare.

Whatsoever, she skipped a witty comeback. Perhaps because there was none. "Ten minutes, Humphrey. And no more inappropriate jokes in front of our daughter, regardless of her Brooklyn roots."

* * *

Time flew by and before he had even gotten around to actually explaining why her mother considered his joke to be inappropriate, the two were ordered downstairs by Dorota who observed him closely throughout the entire dinner but made it obvious that he had regained parts of her sympathy by eating up. There was no chance he could catch Blair alone either but at least he knew he could simply try again tomorrow. Because both Waldorfs desperately wanted him to return the next day.

"I'll be honest, Sundays are relatively dull in a small town like this." Blair admitted. "But we could still show you the town a little more? Whatever, I'm sure we'll think of something."

Naturally, he didn't turn them down. Cynthia was ecstatic and once she had hugged him goodbye out of the blue, he was as well.  
Blair seemed more thoroughly moved than actually ecstatic. Presumably a heavy mix of both.  
She made sure she'd be the last one to say goodbye so that they could set up a time for tomorrow and didn't want to skip the hug either.

"I'm so grateful things seem to be going so well between you two." She whispered before she pulled back, that fact apparently easing her guilty conscience somewhat.  
"Tomorrow, 10 am, here, alright? When do you have to go back to New York anyway?"

Never, unless he was bound to be homeless here.  
"Not in a long while," was the answer he opted for instead.  
Impulsively quitting your job and being more than willing to drop everything and move here permanently felt more like a topic that should be discussed the following day.


	10. a morning after's consequences

_a/n: hello there, loves! here comes another flashback chapter, hopefully for your leisure. You know the thrill already, italic is a present interlude, the rest happened five years ago. I decided to write this already because a lot of you wanted to know more about Blair's thought process etc back in the day after I posted the first flashback and I thought just writing chapter after chapter of Blair, Dan and Cynthia trying to gradually become a family (definitely still a long way to go although they're off to a smooth start) could get really monotonous rather easily. Sadly, Dan's only making a completely passive appearance in this one but I hope you won't mind too much. It also turned out a little more drastic than originally intended (the scene between Blair &amp; Chuck, you feel me) but at least I'd say it pretty much eliminates the horror vision of Chair ever getting back together somehow, yuck.  
Also, I have my first round of finals this week and the next so I'm afraid you might have to sit tight a bit longer for the next chapter but I hope that'll be okay. Obviously, that has to come first and after next week, I'll definitely be able to update faster again (so sorry for getting you all used to rather fast updates so far haha my bad). Besides, writing tends to be my study break pastime of choice these days so perhaps it won't even take excruciatingly long until I return with a whole day of family bonding time for all three of them (which I'm sure will make quite a few of you really happy since you've all really wanted to see B, C &amp; D bond together I seem to recall)  
Now, please try to enjoy another blast from Blair's past &amp; as always, thank you to all of you lovely readers, the ones who resume to give me feedback and therefore make my day in particular! (srsly, you all made my day with the reviews to the last one somehow, idk, perhaps I was just really emotional when I received them ahaha) I love you to the moon and back tbh bahaha.  
The rather long list of guest stars today includes the likes of Dorota (she's been promoted to recurring by now I suppose aha), Eleanor Waldorf and Serena van der Woodsen; honorable mention to NYC cab driver guy; Special Guest Star: Chuck Bass xoxo_

* * *

_"Miss Blair, you just relax, I'm sure everything is-"_

_"Oh, just shut it, Dorota." Blair rolled her eyes in agony. "Humphrey's probably already busy spoiling her innocent little mind with F. Scott Fitzgerald now that he's not under my supervision. I'll be in my room." She added without further explanation, then stormed off.  
No need to let Dorota in on her glorious jacket plan. She'd either call her crazy or sentimental and she liked to think she was neither of those things._

_Upstairs, the doors to her bedroom flew open.  
Enter Blair Waldorf on a mission.  
As much as she loved living in the charming little house at the end of the street, it was just that - little, at least considering what she was used to.  
Perhaps that would ensure that her daughter would grow up to be a little more humble than she was.  
Though she did have a walk-in closet, it would be considered a disgrace by any UES socialite she was acquainted with. The average housewife on the other hand would squeal with delight at the sight.  
Relentlessly searching rack after rack, it merely took her five minutes to locate what she had been looking for._

_"Still as ugly as it used to be." She frowned as she removed the jacket from the hanger - she had actually taken the time to hang it on a rack with all her nice, presentable clothes instead of simply throwing it into the darkest corner where it belonged? Shame on her past self.  
Feeling the fabric already seemed to want to bless her with memories she didn't care to relive for now.  
Instead, she gave it a quick sniff to see if it could be returned just like that. Apparently so. Score.  
Folding it in half by hanging it across her arm, she was just about ready to step out of the closet again when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in her full-length mirror. This must have been what she had looked like when she had arrived back home, at her mother's.  
Tilting her head to the side, she curiously studied her reflected twin.  
Come to think of it, she had never really seen herself wearing it, a blurred and distorted elevator reflection aside.  
Good thing she could have only been spotted roaming through the streets of Brooklyn as she surely must have looked like a clown.  
To clarify if she had once and for all, she took a deep breath and quickly slipped it on.  
Well... It wasn't even the worst look, really. If she invested some time in her styling, she could probably pull this off.  
But not just the fashion aspect regarding this piece of clothing fascinated her. What took her even more by surprise was that as soon as she had felt the fabric on her skin, the same feeling she had felt the last time she had worn it flooded her entire body again - a strange, irrational wave of comfort._

* * *

That morning, the treacherous Brooklyn sunlight had awoken her, tricking her into thinking it must be a lot more pleasant outside than it actually was.  
But upon waking up, the weather had been the least of her concerns.  
Of far greater importance had to be the fact that she was in Brooklyn of all places in the first place.  
In Dan Humphrey's bed.  
Naked.  
And in possession of the full and stainless memory of last night's happenings.  
To be perfectly honest, even though she had been doubtful at all times, she had allowed a very small part of her to make herself believe that by chance she had only had a very vivid and definitely very kinky dream about a man who was definitely not her husband.  
That would have been worse enough keeping in mind that it had been her wedding night. God, her wedding night. She had done the unthinkable.  
Something she had believed to only be a plot device of poorly written rom coms.  
At this point, she couldn't even think straight. She had to get out of here.  
But at the same time, she didn't want to get out of here.  
Where would she go? Home. Where she would be left to deal with the consequences of her suspicious absence.  
Great.  
Not only was she not ready to deal with Chuck yet, she also had absolutely no clue what she should say to him at all.  
The plan had been to figure that out after getting some distraction by watching the comfort movie of her choice but by the end of it, she had been too busy basically grinding on Humphrey until he had finally obliged and bedded her.  
Good God.  
What had gotten into her that she had ended up jumping on him like that? There was no doubt about this only having made matters worse.  
And he had tried to warn her but naturally, she hadn't listened.  
Wishing to slap herself for her soul draining stupor, she remembered that she had wanted to get out of here already.  
Out of the bed at least. And dressed.  
That would already be a huge leap forward.  
The only problem was that she definitely didn't want to wake him up in the process.  
It was bad enough that she'd have to deal with an enraged husband soon, she simply couldn't deal with him now as well, no matter how cowardly that made her seem.

Unfortunately for her, neither of them had seemed to have moved much since she had fallen asleep.  
Part of her head was still resting on his chest and apparently, he had taken the time to wrap an arm around her sometime after she had entered a deep slumber of exhaustion. This made getting out of bed unnoticed a lot harder than it needed to be.  
Biting her bottom lip in concentration, she kept her eyes trained on his face to keep track of every ever so slight twitch and change in his still peaceful expression as she gently and very slowly lifted his arm off of her.  
Once she was sure she had gotten lucky and not disturbed him, she rushed to slip out of bed, put her underwear on at the speed of light and gathered the rest of her formerly abandoned clothing just as quickly before she deserted from the crime scene.

Out in the hall, her lungs seemed to fill with twice as much air as they had received in the bedroom.  
A few deep, long breaths were drawn before she felt capable of putting her dress back on. Now if only she could remember where she had left her purse.  
Hopefully not in the bedroom. No, she surely wouldn't have brought it there.  
She hadn't even entered the room until she'd been carried there during a heavy make out session.  
Her dehydration wasn't helping her form clear thoughts either.  
It was no use, she'd have to find something to drink. As if she really needed to unnecessarily prolong her stay here.  
Making her way to the kitchen, she got to experience a mild form of relief before she had even helped herself to a glass of water - her purse was where it always was.  
Looked like she had managed to pick the usual spot in spite of her panicked state. Kudos to her brain there.  
After finding a bottle of water she certainly hadn't tried before, presumably a wicked eccentric Brooklyn brand, she sat down on a bar stool beside the purse, daintily taking a few sips in a row.  
As awful as it tasted, as efficiently did it ease her mind for a bit.  
Okay, clear thoughts. Clear, rational thoughts.  
Last night had been a mistake, she couldn't deny that. An irreversible act of irresponsibility caused by a wild potpourri of various emotions she didn't have the nerve to explore now.  
But couldn't it be that she had made the biggest mistake earlier that day by becoming Mrs Blair Bass?  
Most definitely. At least that she had learned from last night.  
She couldn't stay married to Chuck, not right now, not at this point. Perhaps they could resolve their issues and try again soon.  
Or did she even want that? She wasn't sure.  
God, she didn't know anything right now.  
Okay, whatever. No more thinking about Chuck for a moment. The way he'd act during their unavoidable confrontation would help her make that decision. Simple solution.

If things could still be considered simple now that she had dragged Dan into her mess for good.  
Stupid Humphrey who had to be too caring to just send her away like any rational thinking ex would have.  
He should have told her she was no longer his responsibility and shut the door in her face.  
But he hadn't.  
She had become his responsibility again the second she had entered the loft on the verge of a mental breakdown.  
Screw him and his unnatural kindness and sympathy.  
Scratch that, she had already done just that.  
Couldn't she have just fallen asleep on his shoulder or something, like she had before? In a purely innocent way?  
But no. Of course not. Of course she had to go and screw it all up with mindless debauchery.  
Could she really blame this on nothing but a deadly mix of panic, confusion and sudden comfort? Not entirely.  
Obviously, she was still attracted to Dan in one way or another or this couldn't have happened.  
Was there more than just remains of physical attraction? Possibly. Which, once again, only made matters worse.  
It would take her a whole day of quiet, undisturbed thinking at the very least to figure this out thus she had to stop herself right here.  
A quick conclusion, then she'd have to finally get going and face her misery.

She came to the conclusion that she couldn't just leave like this.  
Dan had gone out of his way to make her feel better after all, he didn't deserve this. The least she could do was leave him a note.  
Paper and pen weren't hard to acquire under this roof.  
In fact, she found both right next to the DVD case of Breakfast at Tiffany's.  
Flashing back to their conversation during the film, writing that note was as easy as 123, ABC and however that stupid song went on and on.  
And frankly, what she wrote was the truth. She'd need time to reassess both her relationship with Chuck as well as her relationship with him.  
As long as she couldn't be sure about her feelings for both of them, being with either of them wouldn't be fair.  
Hell, how had she gone from marrying Chuck to considering pursuing a relationship with Humphrey again? Who knew if he was even up for that?  
Whatever, she was only confusing herself even more now.  
Time to get out before her note would become useless and she'd have to speak to him in person. She'd just leave it right here, that would do.  
Shouldering her purse, Blair remembered her good manners and at least cared to put her glass into the sink.  
God, had the air been so stuffy in here since she'd entered? Surely, opening a window would only gain her sympathy points.  
And it made her realize that if she went outside wearing just this dress, she would rightfully freeze to death.  
Great.  
Didn't he have some jacket out there? Of course not, at least not in plain sight.  
Wonderful.  
Recalling that she had spied something that looked like a jacket in the bedroom, she decided to pursue a risky plan - she'd pop in and out, get it and dash.  
Grabbing the note from the coffee table, she took a deep breath to brace herself, then tiptoed into the room.  
Apparently Humphrey hadn't noticed her absence or he had been relieved as he was now occupying pretty much the entire bed. Selfish much?  
Rolling her eyes, she focused on her goal again.  
And there it was. The ugly jacket he had been wearing yesterday thrown onto a chair.  
Adding a quick PS to her note, she slipped the offending excuse for clothing on, then stereotypically planted the scrap of paper that now felt like a letter on the pillow beside him. This was turning more and more into a poorly written movie, with every passing second.

* * *

A few more silent steps and she was out of the loft.  
At last.  
Success.  
Outside the front door, she finally dared to put her heels back on, then made her way into the wilderness that was Brooklyn to her.  
Perhaps she should have checked the time at some point as the streets were uncharacteristically deserted for New York standards.  
Or was that just the norm here? As if she knew.  
Nonetheless, it only took her a few minutes of wandering down the road until she caught a cab right before she wanted to get her phone to call for one.  
The driver eyed her curiously through the rearview mirror, even more so once she clued him in on her desired destination.

"Got lost on the wrong side of the bridge, huh? Sure looks like you had a rough night." As if he really needed to show off his poor comedic talent.  
Hopefully he wasn't planning on being a cab driver until he got his big break as a stand-up comedian.  
Rolling her eyes, Blair put on her fiercest resting bitch face.

"Actually, although it's none of your business, I simply paid a spontaneous visit to an old friend of mine. Now if you could just focus on driving, that would be lovely or else I can see your tip drastically decreasing."

That sure did the trick.  
It wasn't until they were crossing Brooklyn Bridge that she dared to take out her still peacefully muted phone.  
Maybe the world had given up on looking for her after a few missed calls, realizing that she wasn't in the mood to speak to anyone for the time being, had meekly left a final little call-me-when-you-get-this-text and then left her alone for good.  
Of course that had been too much of an utopian vision.  
Instead, she unlocked her phone to 44 missed calls, most of them from Chuck, a few more from her mother and Serena and even one from Nate.  
Dorota had only called twice, apparently the only one acquainted with her vision.  
17 texts posed as the cherry on top.  
She wouldn't even bother listening to all those voice mails, surely not. Reading the texts would be hard enough.  
Sighing heavily, she slumped back in her seat.  
For the first time this morning, she was actually starting to feel bad for what she had done.  
Granted, she had realized it hadn't been her smartest idea all along, that she had made a huge mess out of everything but somehow she hadn't managed to actually regret it which probably made her the world's most horrible person.  
Did she regret it now? It was hard to say. Maybe a little. But not all that much. Horrible person, that only proved her point.

In the end, she couldn't even bring herself to read the texts. She simply hurriedly opened them to make the offending red notification bubble go away. Once her destination had been reached, she needed a little push to actually get out of the cab – the driver's judgmental gaze worked wonders there. Whatsoever, he had refrained from making any more snarky remarks so his tip was safe. Upon receiving it however, he couldn't resist spewing a dose of earnest advice:

"Listen honey, I know it's none of my business, you've made that very clear, but have a humble bit of advice: whatever's going on in your life, stick to the Brooklyn guy. A guy whose waiting up for you in a building like this won't ever make you happy in the long run."

Half-tempted to tear a bill out of his hands again, she shot him a weak smile instead. Somehow, the words of a non-involved NYC taxi driver stung. Oh, wasn't she just ridiculous?

"Too bad that I've just gotten married to that guy, huh?" Shrugging as if it wasn't a big deal nonetheless, she finally made her way to the building.

* * *

During the walk to the elevator, she had still been rather calm and collected.  
Inside however, a feeling of uneasiness and mild anxiety started to take a hold of her, mostly induced by the fact that she was clueless about what to expect once she had to leave it. Her mother demanding an explanation was the most likely scenario. That would be bad enough.  
Even worse however would be running into a Chuck already and she had a sinking feeling that just that would happen.  
Now that she was shielded from the harsh morning breeze, she took the jacket off and folded it across her arms. As distasteful as she thought it to look, it had done its job very well.  
Not much longer and she could hear the elevator announcing that she had arrived prior to the doors opening. Momentarily closing her eyes, she took a long, soothing breath, telling herself that she could deal with whatever was waiting for her on the other side of the door and that there was absolutely no need to worry.  
She was a strong, independent woman who didn't belong to anybody, least of all her husband.  
Newly motivated, she entered the foyer.  
For a moment, she believed herself to be alone but she quickly had to realize how horribly mistaken she had been.  
Upon entering, she had attracted the attention of two pairs of eyes who were now fixated on her.  
Eleanor's and Chuck's.  
Worst case scenario.  
She had stopped in her tracks only for a second but was now approaching them without showing signs of weakness. If she was fast enough, perhaps she could simply dash for the stairs and lock herself in her room.  
But no.  
She wouldn't.  
She'd face her misery with her head held high, like she had told herself. Having her mother here might actually be a good thing, she might be able to keep Chuck in control.

Before she could even greet them, Eleanor took the word:

"Blair Cornelia Waldorf-"

"Bass." Chuck interrupted uncharacteristically meekly, slightly leaning against the bannister.

"Whatever, Charles." Eleanor shot him a mild glare, apparently having gotten annoyed with his presence by now. Who knew how long he had been here already? Turning back to her daughter, her glare became a little more scolding. "We have been worried sick about you! All of us! Where the hell have you been?"

Blair swallowed. Well, wasn't this going great already?

"I believe I am a woman of age and therefore no longer need to inform everyone about my whereabouts at all times so there really was no need to worry about me." She replied very calmly, already bracing herself for the backlash.

Her mother nearly gasped, then basically spat at her:  
"So you think it's _normal_ to just go wherever you please _on your wedding night?_ Then please do elaborate what you thought to be more important than being in the company of your newly-wed husband?"

Before she could think of a response, Chuck decided it was his turn to speak, again in a surprisingly soft tone:  
"She's been at the only place where we haven't searched for her." He noted soberly. "Eleanor, would you mind giving me and my wife some privacy?"

_Me and my wife._ Blair struggled not to shiver.  
After initial hesitation, Eleanor gave in and retreated to the next room.  
Silence filled the foyer as Chuck studied her with an unreadable expression, then slowly stepped toward her.  
In response, she visibly tensed. He was far too calm for her liking. It was unnerving.

"Is this how our marriage is going to be now, Blair? I say something you don't like and you immediately run off to Humphrey to hide out in his Brooklyn pigsty?" His tone remained very even but a note of bitterness was threateningly making its presence known as he motioned to the jacket still dangling from her crossed arms.

Blair rolled her eyes, then fixed them on his.  
"Actually, Chuck, I don't think our marriage is going to be anything at all. I don't think we should stay married to each other." She informed him boldly, tossing the jacket onto the nearest chair.

Chuck's brows knit in irritation, a fierce sparkle flashing in his eyes.  
"Excuse me? I must have misheard." He spat. "You got what you wanted, Blair. You finally got your happily ever after with me, just like you've always wanted. And now that you have it, it suddenly lost its meaning or what are you trying to tell me there?"

"What I'm trying to say is that I think we rushed into this." Defensively, her voice turned into a hiss.

"Because I made one stupid joke too much for your liking?" He scoffed. "You're being ridiculous."

"No, _you_ are right now." She corrected him fiercely. "If you were being honest for one second, you would realize that we probably have completely different visions and ideas of being married to one another and-"

She found herself aggressively being cut off:  
"No, Blair, this is not what this is about." Chuck was shaking his head nearly frantically. "This is about you and Humphrey, just admit it."

"This is not about me and Humphrey." Blair groaned. "This is about you and me and no one else. Who even says there is anything between me and Dan? That's not our topic right now."

"Then I shall make it our topic." He yelled in reply but slightly lowered his voice again as he carried on speaking and doing just that. "Considering you spent the night with him, I believe you two are very much our topic as well. What did you do all night, huh? Talk about your problems and braid each other's hair? No, surely not." His cold stare bore into her doe eyes, seemingly wanting to pierce into her soul.  
"I bet you let him fuck you. You look like you did." He appeared to be stating this matter-of-factly but it wasn't hard to tell that on the inside, he was boiling with rage.

How she was able to keep staring back at him would remain a mystery to her forever but she did, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of witnessing weakness on her side.

"So what if I did?" She mocked him innocently, even though she was fully aware of how dangerous of a tactic she was pursuing. "Once again, we get to witness that Chuck Bass believes the whole world revolves around sex. It's all you care about and it's what keeps it all together for you." She spat in disgust, not even flinching as he stepped closer, his teeth gritted even as he spoke:

"Blair, you smell like cheap liquor, cheap cologne and sweat. I suppose they might not yet have mirrors in Brooklyn but to call your look 'dishevelled' would be the understatement of the century." The more closely he got to study her, the harder it became for him to contain his rage, once again ready to yell. "It's not hard to jump to conclusions here so just give me a simple yes or no to a very simple yes or no question: Did you fuck Humphrey on our wedding night?"

In all honesty, cross her heart and hope to die, she wasn't trying to lie to him for the sake of having him fooled. She simply wanted to spare him the painful truth.

"Chuck, I am not even going to acknowlegde your ridiculous assumptions-"

"Perhaps you should have married Humphrey instead." He scoffed bitterly, then retreated to his usual yells again, luckily for her taking a step back. "Did you fuck him, yes or no?" Apparently, he didn't want it any other way.

"Yes, I did, alright?" The frantic scream escaped her before she was even fully aware of what she was admitting nor of what she was about to be getting herself into. "I fucked him and I loved every second of it. I basically begged for it. There, are you happy with yourself now? Was that what you wanted to hear? You're right, the whole world revolves around sex. And you know what? You might have been right about whom I really should have married as well. Perhaps I should have. At least Dan loved me for who I am, not who he'd like to turn me into."

Presumably, this would have been the right time to run as fast as you could and make a quick escape. But she didn't.  
Chuck remained frozen for a millisecond before practically lunging himself at her. Blair wouldn't have been surprised had he hit her right there and then.  
Frankly, she might not even have been able to be mad at him in hindsight, keeping in mind how provocative she had been and that, matter of fact, she had wronged him horribly. But he didn't instantly hit her. Instead, he grabbed her by her wrists and roughly jerked her toward him.

"So this is who you really are, yeah? Blair Waldorf, Brooklyn's filthiest whore?" He screamed straight into her face, looking as if he was on the brink of insanity. "You're right. I can't love you for that."

His grip on her left wrist loosened, his palm seemingly twitching, itching to finally give her what he thought she deserved. Her eyes had ostensibly widened in fear but she was still capable of speaking, miraculously keeping her voice as void of emotion as possible in spite of her state:

"Go ahead, I dare you. Prove to me that I was right all along."

Lifting his hand to obey, he dropped it again after a brief moment of suspense.

"Charles, I think it's best if you leave now." Eleanor had entered the room unbeknownst to them after catching him call her daughter Brooklyn's filthiest whore for reasons she had happened to have overheard as she had been on the phone in a room even further away than the one she had previously entered until now.

Quietly, he nodded, dropping Blair's other wrist in the process. "I wholeheartedly agree, Eleanor. I'm going to go on our honeymoon now, without your daughter. Should she come to her senses, she shall feel free to call me and join me at any time she pleases. Otherwise, we'll have to have a serious conversation a month from now." Although he had pretended to be addressing her mother, his eyes had never left Blair's. In fact, they didn't until he had fully stepped past her and made his way to the elevator.

As soon as he had left, her tough façade began to crumble right in front of her mother's very eyes.  
Having skipped the natural, healthy reaction earlier, she now found herself severely shaking, on the verge of tearing up.  
What had she been thinking to throw the truth in his face like that?  
Sure, he asked for it but that, that was extremely harsh. Now there was at least no more denying that she was the world's most horrible person.

During her thought process, Eleanor helplessly cleared her throat.

"Blair, dear, are you alright?" She asked, struggling to hide her concern although she had originally intended to still sound bitter upon returning to the room.

"Yeah," she numbly brushed her off, slowly picking up the jacket she had tossed onto a chair earlier in order to give herself something to do, "I'm just a little cold, I guess." Shrugging lightly, she draped it across her shoulders. "Maybe I should get some more sleep." She then decided, stepping past her mother and already making her way upstairs before the elder Waldorf could protest.

Sighing heavily, Eleanor observed her climb the stairs:  
"Don't you think you might still want to tell me where you were? Or why you were there perhaps?"

"Well, I'm Brooklyn's filthiest whore in case you haven't heard," she replied soberly, "so I suppose I must have spent the night on the streets of Williamsburg or some equally disturbing neighbourhood."

Having that said, she made her way to her room, locking the door as soon as she had arrived. Her first instinct was to cry as she was lying there on her bed and she did for a while but the tears soon ebbed away.  
Chuck was right. Being with him used to be all she ever wanted. But possibly losing him now didn't hurt one bit.  
Their conversation had hurt, however.  
If only she could have made him understand that this wasn't the right time for them instead of exposing her infidelity in the most awful way imaginable other than letting him catch her in the act.  
Yet he still seemed to be set on staying married to her. It was unbelievably grotesque.  
Nothing, absolutely nothing made sense anymore and all she really wanted for now was for her mind to shut up and leave her be.

* * *

That day, no one was granted access other than Dorota and even she would not be let in on last night's happenings just yet. Angelic as she was, she didn't mind too much. Instead, she preferred to focus on Blair's plans for how things were supposed to go on from here – she had none.  
Thus she spent the following weeks locked away from the outside world, mostly staying in bed as if she had caught a mysterious disease that may or may not be infectious.  
More than weekly, she was blessed with sick bed visits by no other than Serena van der Woodsen who was set on making her leave these four walls and enjoy her life again – rather unsuccessfully so.

Once they had reached week three of Blair's sickening lethargy, she finally seemed to have had it with her but only told her so very gently.

"Oh come on, B. Just one little trip to a café at least. I know, I know, it's that time of the month now so you'd usually have an excuse for being grumpy and wanting to stay inside and in bed all day but I'm not having it. You've spent the past two weeks here, you have no more excuses. In fact, going outside might actually do your weakened system some good."

The brunette had stopped paying attention to her argumentation after Serena had pointed out that it was 'that time of the month'. What time of the month please? She wasn't lying here with cramps and bleeding out like a slaughtered pig as far as she was informed. That girl must have lost her mind.

"Excuse me but since when do you believe to be so up to date with my cycle?" She rolled her eyes in annoyance. _At least get your facts straight, Serena._

"Haven't I always been?" Serena joked, then simply shrugged. "Since you're on birth control I suppose? You're always one week ahead of me, I know that for a fact."

Blair's brows knit in confusion. Could she be right? She had to be considering she had very vivid memories of the blonde bothering her about borrowing tampons when she had always just used all of hers up.  
But hadn't she… Wait, when exactly was the last time?  
No, hold on – far more importantly: when exactly was the last time she had bothered to take birth control?  
She couldn't recall taking a single pill since she had started her self-prescribed house arrest. Thinking back, she couldn't even recall taking one on her wedding day.  
Great.  
Just fucking wonderful.  
Okay, no need to panic, though. How late was she, really? A day, maybe two? No need for worries whatsoever. Perhaps her cycle was just mildly fucked up due to her suddenly skipping the pill. That didn't have to mean she was in deep shit. But peeing on a stick now just to be safe and regain her peace of mind wouldn't hurt either.

First, she needed to get Serena out of here.

"Alright, fine, you got me." She sighed dramatically. "Can you please just let me revel in my misery for one more day, S? We'll go out tomorrow, I promise. You're allowed to drag me out of bed if I refuse then."

Now that was an offer Serena couldn't refuse.  
As soon as she made her exit, Blair sat up straight and rang her infamous bell.  
"Dorota," she already yelled, "I need you to get me something. Urgently."

* * *

An hour later, the faithful maid had supplied her with what she had asked for and was now pacing in front of the bathroom door.

"Miss Blair, you sure you don't need help?"

"No, thank you, Dorota, I'm good. This isn't the first time I'm doing this." Blair reminded her tensely, nervously chewing on her lip as she sat on the toilet lid and waited it out. Why did those tests have to take so long? She thought this to be impeccably rude.  
But then, finally. The wait was over. Wide-eyed from curiosity and suspense, she practically gulped at the small display. There it was. Clarity. Of sorts at least.

Stepping out of the bathroom again, she shot Dorota a meaningful look.

"Dorota, I think you'll have to arrange an appointment for me." She sighed quietly, showing her the two pink lines the test had provided her with.

"Oh, Miss Blair." She gasped in response, shaking her head. "Don't you think we should call Mister Chuck? Tell him to come back?"

"Definitely not." She nearly whimpered. "Not at all costs."

Dorota's brows knit in confusion. "But don't you think he should know if-"

"No, he shouldn't." Blair dissented firmly. "Because I'm pretty sure it might not be his and therefore none of his business."

Now Dorota knew nothing anymore. She nearly felt sorry for the poor thing and therefore decided to meekly confess her wrongdoings to yet another person – this time a confidant.

"Well, you see," she swallowed nervously, preparing herself to be judged, "I spent my wedding night in Brooklyn. With Dan. Not exactly chastely."

The initial confusion was immediately replaced by utter and earnest shock. "You and Mister Dan-?" She only managed to stutter.

"Yes, me and Mister Dan." Blair rolled her eyes. "Back on track. Please just arrange that appointment for me, alright? I mean, maybe this is false. It probably has to be. I just need to know before I start having sleepless nights over this."

* * *

_Yet she still managed to have sleepless nights over this anyway, she recalled, shaking her head. Up until now, she found it hard to believe this had actually happened five years ago when it still felt like only yesterday to her.  
Whatever. Back to focusing on her mission. Although by now, her sentimental side kind of wanted her to hold on to this jacket a little longer.  
No, she had had it long enough.  
Taking it off again, she attempted to smooth the fabric one last time, then left the room. Maybe she'd keep it as punishment if Humphrey actually was spoiling their daughter's little mind with Fitzgerald._


	11. you were my playground, i was your home

_a/n: and I'm finally back from my brief hiatus, loves! I hope you're all still willing to read my rambling in spite of the break. This chapter has turned out horribly long and has once again been slightly shortened because I didn't want to keep you all waiting even longer than I already made you wait which I'm really sorry for - not only has my life been terribly stressful, I've even had a bit of writer's block at some point, yuck, which is why I'm really hoping my writing's quality hasn't suffered too much.  
Anyway, I've decided to end this chapter a little earlier and make what I originally wanted to include in this one the beginning of the next. The next one shall include a lot more family time and future planning - writing family time where the three of them are together has actually turned out to be a lot harder than I thought (lbh, focusing on just two characters at a time simply is a lot easier) so I'm hoping that my skills will improve there with a little practise.  
The break between this one and the next chapter definitely won't be as long as the last one was unless I get the worst case of general writer's block again, promise.  
Thanks to everyone who remained faithful to this story (in particular the ones of you who reviewed because the last review I got actually helped me defeat the writer's block demon), you're the crème de la crop as well as the cherry on top xoxo_

* * *

For the first time since he had suddenly been blessed with the fateful gift of fatherhood, Dan got to enjoy a full night of undisturbed sleep.  
In fact, he slept for nearly twelve hours straight. Twelve hours of rest he had been in desperate need of.  
Things had gone far better than he would have ever imagined and apparently his worries had been completely uncalled for.  
Granted, his chances of ever being romantically linked to Blair again equalled zero at this point but how quickly Cynthia had seemed to accept him absolutely made up for that. That girl was a miracle. Even though they hadn't been a part of each other's lives until yesterday, he couldn't help but feel as if he had known her since birth - how he wished he actually had.  
Every fibre of his being longed to find a way to rewind, to go back in time, to simply wake up five years ago with the same knowledge he had now so that he could fill those meaningless, wasted years of his with something as fulfilling and of such great importance as raising his own flesh and blood. Hell, he would have already been by Blair's side during her pregnancy and thus he would have known C long before she even saw her first light of day.  
Undeniably, he wished he could have been a part of it all - pregnancy, birth, first steps, first words, first holidays, first everything.  
Instead, he had been provided with a seemingly fully shaped, wonderfully brought up little human copy of his that was so alike to him, inside and out.  
Yes, he wished he could have contributed to that with more than just his genes but he hadn't and that was okay.  
Blair had done a wonderful job on her own and even though an oblivious bystander could have gotten the crazy idea that he was blaming her for his missing out on such elementary joys of parenthood, he wasn't in the least.  
If he was going to blame anyone, he might as well blame himself.  
Dorota was right; he shouldn't have given Blair such an easy way out in the first place.  
He shouldn't have backed down after she called and immediately hung up, then chose to ignore all his calls. He should have paid her a visit and perhaps they would have reunited in a cheesy scene worthy of screen time in a particularly sappy romance movie.  
But then again, blaming himself didn't change a thing either. He should leave it at both of them having slightly messed up and simply forget about it.

Therefore, he decided to stay in that mind set once he woke up again.  
Successfully so.  
Here he was, having spent yet another night in Cabot Cove, ME - a town that he hadn't even known existed around this time last week - suddenly responsible of more than just himself and absolutely clueless about his future.  
Jobless, nearly homeless (his Brooklyn apartment didn't count right now) - no, he couldn't keep worrying about this. He'd figure it out soon enough. Maybe later today.  
For now, he'd focus on what was right ahead of him: yet another day to be spent with Cynthia and Blair.

* * *

He took his time getting ready in order to not look like the only thing his life revolved around was them, although, at this point, that was very much the truth, yet his Mustang still pulled up in Orchard Street at 9:45.  
As much as he loved the busy streets of NYC, he could absolutely see himself getting used to the quiet and impeccably clean ones lined by flowers of this neighbourhood. Even the stereotypical white picket fences he found to be charmingly fitting in this scenery.  
Luckily for him, the Waldorfs didn't seem to be the biggest fans of sleeping in nowadays. The blinds had been drawn in the entire house as far as he could tell from looking only at its front and well, Blair had told him to come at 10, hadn't she?  
He could wait out another five minutes in the car and then being ten minutes early wouldn't even look all that insane.  
Or not.  
The rattling of a curtain downstairs didn't go unnoticed and informed him that his cover had been blown.  
Oh well then.  
Before he had even reached it, the front door had already opened a crack.

"Humphrey." Blair greeted him with an amused grin.

"Waldorf." He shook his head, already knowing what she was about to say. "I know, I'm incredibly early, let's not even go there."

"I wasn't going to." She shrugged in response. "I've gotten used to your sickening punctuality. Although, being that early could really make one think you just can't stay away from us anymore."

"Maybe I can't." It sounded like he was joking but come to think of it, he might not have been.

Blair either overheard or chose to ignore the small hint of desperation lingering in his voice and motioned him inside, then led him into the kitchen.  
In spite of this only being his second time inside, his third time outside the house, he felt even more at home than he already had when he had first entered it.  
So far, he hadn't seen more than two rooms but he would have bet on easily being able to guess the interior design of the rest of the house. He still considered it to be a slight understatement for her usual taste but it was yet another refreshing change he had come to notice in Blair Waldorf, small town resident.

Cynthia's face lit up the second he entered the room, resulting in her dropping her spoon next to her bowl of cereal, seemingly having gotten ready to get going within seconds.

"Is it ten yet?" She asked excitedly.

"Not yet." Blair shook her head no, unable to keep herself from smiling due to the girl's reaction. "Your father's specialty just so happens to be being early at all times."

"Not at all times." Dan threw her a scolding look before making his way to his daughter who immediately invited him to lean down for a hug.  
Her mother rolled her eyes in response but didn't dare to protest, instead watching the scene between the two unfold in silence. The initial hug had turned into Dan lifting the girl off her chair, making her giggle in delight and once again proving to her that telling him had been the right decision - one she should have already made a long time ago.  
About to lose herself in her thoughts, she nearly missed their exchange but thankfully tuned back in once she could contribute to the conversation.

"So, where are we going today?" Dan had asked both her and Cynthia.

"We're going to feed the ducks, aren't we?" C threw a quick glance at Blair in hopes of an affirmative gesture, nearly bubbling over with excitement. "Because I need to show you my favourite duck."

"You have a favourite duck?" He could only ask in disbelief before also turning to Blair. "She has a favourite duck?"

"Of course. Everyone should have one." The addressed shrugged in amusement. "The duck pond will be our first stop but there'll be many more. Like I said, we ought to make sure you get to know the town a little better."

It took a moment for him to process that their daughter was a duck aficionado like her mother used to be back home. The more he got to know her, the more she started to appear to be the perfect mixture of him and Blair. Shaking his head, he struggled to stay serious:

"Then we shouldn't waste any more time, should we? Time to meet that favourite duck."

* * *

As soon as her feet had touched ground again, Cynthia had been more than ready to set off to the duck pond without looking back but Blair's ideas of good parenting or at least leading an organized household delayed all the fun. Sunday happened to be Dorota's day off no matter for how long she visited and therefore the house would not be left until the kitchen had been ridded of all remains of breakfast.  
Dan found himself left to stand by and observe their daughter's obedience in astonishment – one thing was for sure, Blair knew exactly how to work this parenting thing, displaying just the right mixture of strictness and kindness – at least as far as he could judge. Not that he was really an expert on parenting. And perhaps he was even slightly biased.

Once the kitchen had returned to its presentable pre-breakfast state, the three were out the door, ditching the cars and instead taking a stroll to the nearby duck pond. In spite of it still being rather early, the soft breeze blowing through the leaves of the trees lining the streets they were passing was pleasant, making the promise of a warm and sunny day.  
Reaching the duck pond had required a mere five minute walk yet this short period of time had sufficed to bless Dan with more observations that left him speechless and in one way or another proud despite not being sure whom he was even supposed to be proud of (Blair, presumably).  
Cynthia had chosen to walk between her parents from the start, always keeping up the set pace, never trying to speed up or dragging behind without needing either of them to lead her. Whatsoever, whenever a street needed to be crossed, she appeared to be taking Blair's hand out of instinct, immediately dropping it again once the next sidewalk had been reached. Would she have turned out like this had he been involved in raising her from the start? In all honesty? He wasn't sure if he wouldn't have screwed it up. Hell, what did he know about parenting? A shitload of nothing. Blair, on the other hand, must have somehow managed to figure it out unless she had just so happened to be one of those natural born mothers – did those even really exist? Probably not.

Glancing at the brunette from the corner of his eyes, various thoughts battled in his mind for his immediate attention, unasked questions he was desperate to voice and hopefully receive satisfying answers to. There was just so much he wanted to know about the past five years of Blair's life, it nearly made his head swim. How on earth had she been able to cope with all of this mostly on her own? Hadn't she been scared out of her mind and even lacking a confidant other than Dorota to help her get over it and prepare for her new role as a mother instead? He'd definitely need some more time alone with her soon to finally get this off his chest.

But for now, it was time to focus on his daughter who had even remained in her impressive state of calm obedience after they had reached their destination, apparently quietly seeking her mother's approval prior to taking him by the hand to drag him to the ducks, for the first time exhibiting the reckless carefreeness one got to witness in most four-year-olds.

"Okay, so my favourite duck's right-" Her lips formed a slight pout as she tried to spot the infamous animal on the considerably crowded pond.

"Let me guess," Dan crouched down beside her in order to be able to follow her line of sight a little more easily, "it's that one over there." He then decided, pointing at a duck who was hurrying to join the crowd.

Cynthia nodded happily. "Oh yeah, there he is. His name is Timothy. Isn't he adorable?"

"Certainly. He might just be the most adorable duck I have ever laid eyes on." He assured her affirmatively, earning himself Blair's silent approval who had by now caught up with them.

"He _so_ is." The little girl dramatically stressed her point. "But how could you be so sure it was him?"

"Well," Clearing his throat, he tried his best to choose his words carefully and wisely, "you can tell he's… very well taken care of."

In other words, although it was a little hard to tell as long as he was in the water, Timothy the favourite duck had to at least be on the verge of being overweight.  
Cynthia, however, still took it as a compliment.

"I take very good care of him." She confirmed his theory, "I always make sure he gets enough when we feed them."

"Oh yeah, I can see _that_." Dan could not refrain from murmuring, gaining himself a curious look from both Waldorf women in whose company he was. Great. Now he was left to try and talk his way out of this faux pas.  
"Well, I mean-" After a brief interlude of stuttering, he gave up on trying to find an excuse. "Let's face the facts, he's a bit on the chubby side."

Definitely not in Cynthia's and Blair's world.

"He's not _chubby_." The latter corrected him firmly. "He's just… well-nurtured, that's all."

"Yeah, well-nurtured." Mini-Waldorf agreed.

Looked like he was up against an experienced, unbeatable team.

"I'm not saying he's, like, fat or anything but…" Frowning, he decided to ignore the easy way out and defend his opinion. "He's definitely chubby. He could easily become fat if he keeps getting extra food until he just explodes one day."

This one really seemed to hit home.

"He could explode?!" Cynthia gasped, nearly sounding like her world was about to be shattered into a million pieces. Okay, perhaps that had been too strong of an argument.  
Bring in Blair to save the day:

"No honey, of course not. He's going to be just fine."

Her burning glare did not go unnoticed by Dan who quickly retorted to save his reputation.

"No, he can't, I don't think. That was a bit of an exaggeration. But still," Turning to face the small girl whose wide-eyed gaze made it clear that she was in desperate need of further affirmation, "being overweight can't be healthy for him, you know? It isn't for humans either, so I really doubt it's good for ducks. And you want him to be healthy and happy, don't you?"

A small, understanding nod from Cynthia's side was all it took for him to continue:

"See, then maybe you should try to think of what's best for him even though it might not sound like it'll be as much fun for both of you as making sure he always gets his fair share of food happens to be. Perhaps you could put him on a diet for just a little while. Basically be his doctor and make sure he doesn't eat too much so that he'll stay healthy. How does that sound?"

"It makes sense." She admitted, blessing him with another nod. "I only want the best for him after all."

"Of course you do. So you'll just go ahead and monitor his diet and you'll see you're doing him a favour." Now that hopefully saved a situation that was very much about to go bad. Being a four-year-old's parent whose brain was actually capable of processing all the bullshit you let slip in front of them might just not be as easy as Blair made it seem.

Thankfully, C's motivation to indulge in her duck feeding hobby hadn't ceased but perhaps even slightly increased. Apparently being a duck's personal diet coach turned out to be a lot more fulfilling than anyone would ever thought it to be and thus the girl found herself fully indulged in her newly-found calling.  
Once Dan had finally left his crouching position, Blair was already by his side, throwing him another meaningful glance – in other words, a glance that could mean so many things all at once that he had no idea what exactly she was trying to imply until she actually spoke.

"You nearly screwed up big time, Humphrey. I expected you to know better." She murmured, her voice lowered so that only he would be able to hear her, just in case Cynthia would take a break from scolding Timothy for trying to snatch a few seemingly abandoned breadcrumbs too many from his posse. "But the way you turned it around was impressive, I have to admit that. Looks like you just need a little practise to unlock your full potential."

Her teasing tone left him unsure if she had been serious about him having potential – he'd just so hope he was in order to feel better about himself. Not that the situation he was in had him feeling awful in any way, this nagging uncertainty concerning his near future aside, but he had always been prone to all-consuming self-doubt and his parenting skills sure were something he had every right to be self-conscious about now that he was suddenly expected to put them to use from one day to the next.

"I believe I've implied before that I would do a far better job at being a dad if she still lacked the capacity to speak. Or to even understand what's coming out of my mouth other than random noise." He sneered sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

The brunette tried to contain a small giggle but couldn't help but grace him with a soft smile. "You're doing good, Dan. Really. You'd just probably be better off learning to hold your tongue sometimes."

Meanwhile, Cynthia was taking her job extremely seriously, not even shying away from lecturing Blair to pay special attention to Timothy's eating habits once the two joined her.  
Soon enough, every last crumb had found its inevitable end in the water or a duck's womb and since it was still too early for lunch, a new destination had to be chosen.

"Can we go to the playground?" Once more addressing her mother at first, the girl then turned to her father. "I need to show you my favourite swing."

Blair appeared to be in the mood for a compromise: "If we head to the playground now, we'll have to have lunch at Sally's."

Cynthia simply graced her with a dismissive shrug before offering her parents enormous words of wisdom: "Swings are more important than food places." With that, the matter was settled for the time being and the small family on the way to destination number two.

* * *

This time, Cynthia appeared to be slightly straying from her mother's side to instead be closer to her father for whom she already painted a vivid picture of the infamous favourite swing.  
Blair didn't seem to take it personally, realising that the two might require some bonding time of their own that could possibly make her feel like the third wheel if she insisted on always being present but a slight, though well-hidden, hint of melancholic grazed her features for a millisecond nonetheless.

"Just how many favourite things do you have?" Dan inquired in confusion, by now fully lost in conversation with his daughter.  
"Don't you just lose track at some point?"

"Nah." Cynthia shook her head no. "It's not that hard to keep track of everything since I have a favourite thing of pretty much everything. Favourite dress, favourite Barbie, favourite book, favourite headband-"

"Favourite headband, naturally." Trying hard not to sound sarcastic, he couldn't refrain from throwing in a sneaky compliment, definitely with ulterior motives, that earned him another scolding look from the elder Waldorf. "I really like your hair today, by the way. Without a headband."

"Yeah?" The girl responded with surprise. "Mom implied you would."

"Because your father has never managed to see the value of a well-chosen headband." Blair chimed in, playfully glaring at him. "Even if we'll let the fashion aspects you ostensibly remain clueless about up until this day aside, they benefit her greatly. Her hair is just too unruly without one. Just watch and see how many times her hair gets blown into her face if it isn't being held back."

Dan's expression remained relatively unmoved, perhaps even the slightest bit amused.

"That's just because you don't know how to deal with it." He noted innocently, running his fingers through his daughter's, then his own hair as if to prove his point. "Let me educate you and you'll see that headbands can officially be downgraded to mere accessories of no use whatsoever."

At this point, the brunette could hardly believe her ears. "Humphrey, I do not need hairstyling advice from you, thank you very much. You realize she doesn't just exclusively carry your genes, don't you? Her hair might as well have something in common with mine somehow."

"Waldorf," he rolled his eyes in exasperation, "sorry to break this to you but our hair is exactly alike. Like it's cloned. It looks the same, it even feels the same and it'll definitely behave the same way, believe me. And let's be honest, do you ever see me struggling with having my hair all up in my face? Didn't think so. I've been dealing with this for nearly thirty years so please just trust my beauty skills for once."

A devious grin had suddenly appeared on her lips and she stepped closer, he knew he was in for trouble. She had to have remembered something, something that might have just happened a decade ago that she could now hold against him – and oh, how right he was.

"Oh, thirty years, yeah?" She purred, struggling not to laugh. "Then how come when I first met you, you were rocking such an awful buzz cut that you nearly had your entire head shaved?"

Only Blair Waldorf would have come up with such an argument – and awoken the painful memory of a truly terrible styling choice he had worked rather hard on to forget just because she could.  
His mouth opened and closed again before he finally managed to try and explain himself.

"That was an essential part of my journey to self-discovery that has helped shape me into the person I am today, alright?" A small laugh proved that he couldn't remain serious when it came to this. "I was also young and confused and insecure about a lot of things and my good taste hadn't been fully developed yet, I'll just admit it. It was awful."

_"What?!"_ Cynthia chimed in, apparently unable to picture him with the worst buzz cut of all time. "Mommy, please say you have a photo of it somewhere."

"I might." Blair grinned, biting her lip to keep herself from laughing again. "In fact, I'm almost certain I have one somewhere. I'll just have to find it."

"Once you've found it, please do us all a favour and burn it." Dan murmured quietly, shaking his head. If only he had a similar sin of Blair's youth to hold against her in return but naturally, the reigning Queen Bee of Constance would have never been caught with a bad hairstyle, let alone even have a bad hair day.

During his brief pondering, Cynthia had begun to pout. "But you'll let me see it first, right? Please."

"Sure." He feigned a dramatic sigh. "But only you and then that shameful chapter of my life gets closed for good."

* * *

A stage of mutual agreement was soon reached and so was the playground. Cabot Cove appeared to have been rather cleverly planned and built keeping in mind that so far, all of their destinations had been easy to be reached by foot. As soon as the swings came in sight, Cynthia's face lit up. Stopping to turn around and face her father, she made use of the very same voice she always tried on Blair when there was something she wanted.

"Will you push me on the swing for a bit?" She asked as innocently as humanely possible, thereby uttering a request he simply couldn't have denied had he wanted to.

As they were heading towards her favourite, a slight feeling of discomfort once again took a hold of Dan, induced by the fact that it was no longer just the three of them but at least two other families had made Cabot Cove's playground their place to be on this beautiful Sunday morning.  
All eyes on him had again been the first worry coming to mind though it was probably unfounded. If he was perfectly honest, no one was actually staring at him.  
Could he have gotten lucky enough to be in the company of oblivious strangers who at the very least wasted a small smile on him and his look-alike daughter, not guessing that this was only the second time they had seen each other in their entire lives?  
It seemed that way and even if it wasn't case, he wouldn't give this another thought or he would drive himself insane, as per usual.

Cynthia had happily taken a seat on the swing the moment it had been reached, expectantly waiting for him to give her the first push.  
Rubbing his hands together, he braced himself for the big moment, a milestone on his unusual path of fatherhood. He wouldn't have admitted it to anyone before but he had fantasised about the glorious day he'd first push his own child on a swing - and now here it was. No pressure or anything.

"Forgive me if I'm a little rusty, it might have just been fifteen years since I last did this." He tried to release his nervousness with a joke that was grazed with an understanding smile.

"You'll do great." His daughter chirped. "Just don't be too careful because I like to get really high up really soon."

"Got it." Chuckling, he gave her a stronger push than he had planned on seconds prior, gaining himself an excited squeal.

"Again." The small girl commanded carefreely, her dark curls hopping up and down with every ever so slight movement.

"Alright then." Dan obliged willingly, supplying the next promised shove. This, this was better than anything he had ever dreamed of. His imagination could not measure to reality. And for once, this fact didn't disappoint him, being ever the writer. Instead, it filled him with the first flash of earnest, stainless joy he had felt in a long time. Possibly years.

The same scene repeated itself a few more times and each of those repetitions was closely observed by Blair who had claimed a spot on an unoccupied bench in the meantime. Tilting her head to the side, she managed to keep her focus on both of them, their joyful smiles also causing the corners of her mouth to curl up.  
There it was again.  
More proof that Dan had a talent for this whole being a father thing.  
More proof that she had made a foolish decision five years ago, other than the fact that their daughter hadn't been able to stop gushing about him when she was tucking her in last night.  
She had voluntarily stood in the way of a beautiful father-daughter relationship other mothers would kill for and although she had hoped that seeing them getting along this will would eventually make her feel better, bring her relief of sorts, it only made her feel worse.  
Not that she wasn't happy for them, God forbid. But treacherously, their bonding fed her guilt, making it blossom into a thick bush, relentlessly pestering her with its sharpened thorns.

One last push and Dan was on his way over.  
God, she had to snap out of this. What's done is done, right?  
No matter how much she longed for it, a way back wouldn't just randomly appear and she'd have to accept that.  
If only she didn't feel like at least a small part of both her daughter and the man she had made a father hated her for her mistake, possibly considering it unforgivable.

As much as he wanted to believe the smile she faked was genuine, Dan couldn't let himself be fooled. Having sat down beside her, he kept his gaze trained on Cynthia for another moment who was swinging higher and higher on her own now without a care in the world.

"Well," he began casually, clearing his throat, "I never would have thought this would actually happen. You and me at a playground, observing our daughter." He mused, sneakily glancing at Blair from the corner of his eyes who swallowed the smallest hint of a laugh.

"Oh believe me, me neither." She rolled her eyes playfully. "I couldn't even picture it after I found out I was pregnant with her."

How grateful she was that she was the exact opposite of a bad liar - or so she liked to think.  
Of course she had pictured it in her mind. Countless times. Even recently. Usually on the loneliest and most nostalgic of days.  
All too often when she had stumbled upon another one of his articles, the ones actually published under his real name.  
But she couldn't just admit that when she was feeling so sickeningly vulnerable around him already. No way.  
He, on the other hand, didn't seemed to be struggling with a similar case of vulnerability - and in all honesty, why would he anyway?

"Well, picturing it is a whole other story for me." He clarified with a hint of shyness. "I may have pictured it a few times before. Must have been my creativity running wild.  
A common problem amongst writers. But I surely pictured it a little... _differently, _I suppose."

Oh, what great surprise. Blair had to stop herself from cringing slightly. This conversation wasn't going in the right direction for her liking.

"Differently as in you imagined yourself to have been in the picture from the start, yeah?"

"That as well." He shrugged. "But mostly, my immature visions included us being married. And in our thirties, presumably."  
The part about them being married appeared to have lightened her mood again - she had to really find the pure thought of it beyond ridiculous - and thus he briskly continued. "But since you've already mentioned it..."

Just about to start a speech he had mentally prepared this morning while brushing his teeth, he stopped in the middle of the sentence when he noticed a couple approaching them with knit brows. The child that had to be their daughter had joined Cynthia on the swing next to hers and the two girls were currently chatting and laughing like old friends - which they probably were if you could already give someone at this age the title of an old friend.  
Therefore, this could only mean one thing: these people knew Blair in one way or another.  
But would they know about him? Anxiety resumed its tight grip on him.

The brunette beside him had by now also caught a glimpse of the emerging threat and taken on a similarly anxious impression - right before she jumped to her feet and tugged on his arm to make him stand.

"Those people are my friends so be on your best behaviour, Humphrey." She instructed him, her voice a hiss, as he scrambled to his feet, still unsure what had just hit him.

But there was no time to clear his head, let alone to mentally prepare himself for this encounter.  
Blair's Cabot Cove friends had already reached them and were now blessing them with a (possibly forced?) smile.  
High pitched 'Hi's were exchanged between the females of this now group of four and for a moment, he almost felt like they were back at an event of Manhattan's elite where he was left to awkwardly stand by as Blair made conversation with her conspecifics.  
Another round of forced smiles were exchanged although he visibly struggled. A few more seconds of beating around the bush before she turned to address him in an attempt to break the silence.

"So, this is Angela Webber, one of my best friends here," a polite smile from Angela accompanied by a handshake, "and this is her husband Jackson," the same procedure all over again only that he added an earnest sounding 'nice to meet you' before dropping his hand again,"and well, yeah."  
Clearing her throat, she now addressed the two who had just been introduced.  
"This is Dan Humphrey. Cynthia's father."  
Introducing him like this still made her undeniably uncomfortable but Angela and Jackson chose to ignore that.  
In fact, they generally seemed like the type who were too nice to pick on someone's flaws.

"Yeah, we kind of guessed that" Angela couldn't refrain from stating the obvious. "But it's nice to finally have a name to the face."  
She then continued, leaving Dan speechless to say the least. What exactly was one to response to a statement he couldn't even quite grasp other than _'what?'_?  
His confused expression was interpreted as discomfort.  
"Don't worry, we know you didn't know."  
Well, that was an improvement - but again, what did one respond to this?  
While still mentally debating with himself to find the right answer, he offered her a relieved smile as well as a slight nod for the time being.  
Luckily for him, Jackson took the word instead.

"Dan Humphrey... Why does this name seem to ring a bell?"

Dan himself wouldn't know - but Blair couldn't help but grin before clearing up the situation.

"Jackson is Cabot Cove's other subscriber to The New York Times." She pointed out as if that had to answer all questions - and apparently it did.

"Of course!" Jackson exclaimed in realisation. "Dan Humphrey. I loved that article you did on the Occupy Wall Street movement. Exactly what we needed at the time."

Receiving a compliment was the last thing he had expected from this encounter.  
Generally, it had definitely turned out a lot more pleasant already than originally anticipated.

"Oh wow, thanks. My boss thought it was far too drastic and actually lectured me for it."  
The pure mention of Fusco left a bitter taste on his tongue.  
God, Fusco. Never would he miss having to work for that abomination of a journalist.  
Even working for the local newspaper here, the Cabot Cove Gazette, sounded more appealing than returning to live under his rule.  
Perhaps he would see if they needed anyone here. Now that sounded like something a man responsible enough to be a father would do.  
Definitely the safer option than hoping he would be kissed by muse and manage to write a book that sells. Not to mention find a publisher.

Jackson's voice made him snap out of his spiralling thoughts.

"Your boss has no idea, man. Good thing he has people like you working for him or that paper would be going downhill in no time."

More like _had._ This work situation of his surely still needed to be addressed - but not now.

"Try telling him that, maybe we'd all get our well-deserved raise." He instead chose to joke, gaining himself a chuckle in response.  
Simultaneously, the two women had indulged in a hushed exchange which had now come to an end, resulting in them stepping closer again.

"So we really ought to get going now. We're having lunch with Jackson's beloved mother so naturally, we need to get her flowers now." Angela rolled her eyes, apparently not her mother-in-law's biggest fan.

"Angie, please don't roll your eyes when you're talking about my mother."

Another eye roll.  
This was exactly what Dan had secretly always dreamt of having - a stereotypical marriage that could be featured in a sitcom.  
Not that he really had the capacity to judge the Webber's marriage just like that but he would have bet on them fitting the bill.  
Would he ever have something like that now that his life had been so groundbreakingly changed?  
Probably not. But he might not even want it anymore.  
He hadn't been on the right track to ever achieve it until now anyway.

"Moving on," Angie continued nonchalantly after throwing another glance at Cynthia and the little girl who were still on the swings, "could you two maybe keep an eye on Lupita for a few minutes? Just while we get flowers so that we don't have to drag her away now. Lunch will bore her enough."

"Of course." Blair chirped happily, seemingly ecstatic to help her friend out. "You just go, we'll be fine."

"Wonderful! You're the best, Blair." As the petite brunette was pulled into a hug that seemed to be intended for more than just this small favour, Mr Webber turned to the other male of the small group once more.

"How long are you staying here?" He inquired very casually. "Maybe we could have a valuable discussion sometime. It would be nice to have a chat with a fellow New Yorker with similar views."

Yet another unexpected proposition but considering he was planning on staying here, trying to make a friend might not hurt. "Sure. I'm still staying a while so anytime."

* * *

Once the Webbers had said their goodbyes, Blair motioned him back to the bench with a grin.

"Well, look at that. You have an actual fan in Cabot Cove. Looks like you're almost famous." She teased.

"I sure am glad to know you're not the only who enjoys my more valuable publications." He grinned, letting his eyes wander across the playground. "So which one is theirs?" He asked, motioning ahead of them to the playing kids.

"What do you think, Humphrey? The only black child at the playground of course." Blair rolled her eyes in disbelief.

"Waldorf, you're being racist." He noted defensively. "I'm just being open-minded here. They could have adopted."

"I'm not racist, I'm thinking logically." She corrected him dryly.

"Of course you are. Logical thinking also makes one conclude they're big fans of 12 Years a Slave." Deciding to drop the topic, he remembered what he had originally wanted to bring up. "But back to what I wanted to say before we were interrupted..."

Her formally judgemental glare had instantly transformed into a glance of honest curiosity with a slight hint of nervousness.

"Actually, Cynthia made me realise that I really had to bring this up." He continued carefully. "I know this situation is... perhaps not the easiest to deal with.  
Certainly an unusual one as well. But we're all in it and we're alright with it. Now, we have both noticed that you don't seem to be coping all that well.  
I don't want to make assumptions but I'll just go ahead and clarify this real quick because I simply deem it necessary - should you feel guilty about this in any way whatsoever, neither of us wants you to.  
What's done is done, I'm sure you were convinced you were doing the right thing at the time and neither of us blames you for anything.  
I, personally, am honestly just glad that you let me be a part of both your lives now. And yeah, I just needed you to know that." He concluded, awkwardly clearing his throat. His gaze had strayed between her and their daughter during his speech but was now fixed on only her.

Slightly widened doe eyes were staring at him, blinking a few times as she swallowed.  
Much to his surprise, she mumbled a meek "Thank you" in response only to continue with a "I probably really needed to hear that."

Could this have gone any better? It hardly seemed like it could have. How glad he would be if they could close this chapter once and for all. Forget about the past. Focus on their shared future whatever it may look like.

"You're right, I've felt guilty. For years I suppose. That feeling of guilt might have just been one of the reasons why I never contacted you." Her voice, though still strong at first, seemed to gradually weaken and he finally noticed that her no longer widened eyes were watering.  
"Yes, I thought I was doing the right thing but I never should have because you're _you_, Dan. You would have been there for me, for her. You even loved me, for God's sake." A small sniff slipped but it wasn't hard to tell that she was trying her best to stay composed.  
"We could have offered our daughter a normal, functional family from the start but we didn't because I wouldn't let us and it's just... It's hard not to feel guilty about that when you're the only one to blame."

Okay no, he was taking it back - it certainly could have gone better. Now he felt horrible himself for even bringing it up. For putting her through this.

"Oh no, Blair, please stop crying. I can't stand to have made you cry." He sighed helplessly, scooting closer. "You're not the only one to blame."

"I'm not crying, Humphrey." Blair protested even though she was currently busy lightly wiping her eyes. "I'm alright. And I will be alright once and for all after this. I'll just force myself to be, I've become really good at that. But it's just not that easy. Seeing you two getting along so well that she sometimes even seems to forget I'm there as well is just strangely painful somehow.  
Not that I'm jealous, God forbid. It just makes me realise that you have quite a talent for being a father considering this pretty much got thrown at you and it kind of just makes it worse because everything could have been perfect from the start."

Sure she wasn't crying. Her sniffing was just increasing in volume and a few more tears were on the brink of rolling down her cheeks.

"Blair," another sigh from his side, "you can't know that. It might have all turned out to be a nightmare."

"We both know that's not the truth." She harshly cut him off.

"No, I don't." Dan insisted with determination, reaching out to cup her cheek and thereby make her face him. Not being met with protest was definitely a success.  
"Listen to me for a moment, alright? You can't know that everything would have been perfect and frankly, I don't think it really would have been.  
When did either of our lives ever turn out to be perfect?" He sneered, rolling his eyes.

Although she was still in tears, the corners of Blair's mouth were twitching with the hint of a very weak smile.

"Who knows, maybe all would have gone to shit by now. Maybe I would have fucked it up and you'd both hate me. Or we would simply hate each other because you basically forced yourself to be with me because it sounded like the right thing to do.  
Would that be any better? Would you want that for our daughter? Certainly not, right?  
If I would have been anything like the person I was those past five years, I swear to God you would be holding a grudge against me now and rightfully so."

Her brows knit in confusion, her lips parted as she was on the verge of speaking but Dan didn't stay silent long enough for her to take the word.

"I'll be honest with you, I've been a mess." He at least somewhat satisfied her curiosity but going into detail was something he didn't consider to be beneficial to this conversation at all - perhaps even more of the opposite.  
"Don't ask, it's hard to explain." He instead dismissed her before she could protest. "It really doesn't matter because now my life has suddenly been blessed with purpose, you know?" Both of them couldn't contain a small, muffled snicker.  
"And that's why I can assure you that I will not, under any circumstances, screw this up. As long as you're willing to make this work, we will make it work - and now it'll really be perfect, alright?"

Blair offered him a small nod as he absentmindedly wiped one of her stray tears away.

"Alright." She whispered, nodding again.

"Good." Dan noted, a satisfied grin grazing his lips as he dropped his hand again. "Then stop crying, I'm begging you."

"I'm only crying because you always make me cry." She accused him in a scolding tone, lightly hitting him just like she had countless times before. "This ever-present aura of sadness that surrounds you never fails to drag me down."

"Sure, blame me." He laughed, lazily fighting her off. "You realise you're currently setting a very bad example, being violent on a playground filled with impressionable children?"

"Oh, shut it, Humphrey." Blair rolled her eyes before wiping them once more. "Besides, crying is a good thing. Crying is freeing. Now let me apologise one last time and we'll close this chapter for good."  
Taking a deep breath, her eyes once more wandered to the playing girls they had to watch, then locked on his.  
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you when I found out I was pregnant. I should have given you a choice but I was just scared and confused and definitely not thinking rationally. And with every passing day, it got harder until I felt too caught in my net of lies. I'm sorry I didn't even have the guts to tell you once she was born. But I'm glad I'm forgiven and earnestly looking forward to finally making this right. And now let's never speak of this again." Her voice was a chirp as she concluded her final apology.

"Fine with me." Dan smiled blissfully at her, even more so when she seemed to casually decide that it had to be perfectly alright for her to rest her head on his shoulder.

"Good." She mumbled, momentarily closing her eyes. "Let me rest my eyes for a moment before all this crying gives me a headache."

He wasn't going to fight her on that.

"One last thing, though - are you going to tell me what it's been like? Those past years?" He asked softly, already prepared for backlash.

Whatsoever, Blair appeared to be in a very peaceful mood now that she had made atonement.

"One day." She sighed softly. "When we're alone and have time to talk."

Her eyes remained closed a little longer before she blinked a few times.

"You know what's been... _strange_ for sure?" She suddenly mused, gaining herself a curious glance. "Back when I had first been in such a situation, I found comfort in you. Thus this time, the person I longed to talk to about this the most was the person my twisted mind wanted to keep this from _so_ urgently."  
Rolling her eyes, she slowly sat up straight again.  
"Countless times this nagging voice inside my head went 'if only you could tell Dan about this; he'd hold you and tell you everything would be alright in this annoying, soothing voice of his and for a while, you'd foolishly believe him'. That made not telling you really hard, believe me. You have no idea how much willpower this required."  
She laughed quietly, raising an eyebrow.  
"Do you even realise what you were for me before I left? Because I had no clue until I had cut you out of my life."

Pretending to think really hard, Dan pursed his lips. "Let's see... A social experiment of sorts? Your personal filthy Brooklyn playground you'd never let your kids play at?" He joked sarcastically - a small part of him however feared that he had hit bull's eye.

"No. Thanks for thinking so highly of me." Throwing him a playful glare, she made him endure another punch before re-placing her head on his shoulder. "None of that. You were my home away from home - in a far less privileged neighbourhood." She couldn't refrain from adding.

At first, Dan could hardly believe his ears. Had she really just said that or was his mind playing tricks on him? He would just pretend it wasn't. When casually wrapping his arm around her, he got to listen to yet another statement he could hardly believe - this time coming from his own mouth: "You were right when you said we should just be friends. I can finally see that now. We've always been at our best as just friends, haven't we?"

"We have." Blair agreed quietly. "We'll have the best chances at doing well now as friends, for sure."

Had he lost his mind for good?  
Why would he encourage her in her insanity and ruin even the smallest chances he might have still had to one day be with her out of his own accord?  
Perhaps because he thought it was what she needed to hear. It would give her safety and they both needed that in these troubled times.  
The fact that they were still beating around the bush as far as concrete plans for the future were concerned was bad enough, he didn't have to make it worse by allowing his feelings to get in the way.  
Instead, he repeated her muffled 'for sure', much to her liking, before directing his undivided attention towards their daughter again.

* * *

Cynthia and Lupita were still occupying the swings but had by now reduced their speed to fully indulge in light chatter.  
Lupita had turned out to be rather fascinated by her friend's family situation now that her father was suddenly in the picture - and she wasn't afraid to ask her most burning questions.

"So wait-" She began with narrowed brows. "Your parents aren't married but they still had you?"

"I guess so." Cynthia shrugged. "I didn't know that was possible either."

"Weird." Her friend wholeheartedly agreed. "They're not even together at all?"

"Nope." Observing her parents' every move on the bench across from them, her lips curled up into a satisfied smile. "But I'm working on it."


	12. change is hard - says who?

_a/n: greetings, my dearest readers! I am so terribly sorry to have kept you waiting for this chapter yet again. Cases of severe illness in my family have not yet ebbed away and I've also had to dedicate time to revamping my slightly neglected tumblr rpg. And even more strangely (you're gonna call me crazy after reading the rest of this sentence) - my massive muse for this story actually killed my muse. Contradicting myself right there, I know. 'put my muse on hold' might be the better wording. Let me explain myself. Since I've always had trouble actually completing my fics, I have a set agenda for this one (at least to a certain extent). There'll be a set point in the story where I want this fic to end, however the end of this fic is not supposed to be the end of the story. I'd much rather let this become a series of fics if you know what I'm getting at.  
According to my agenda, this particular fic is supposed to end once we have dealt with both Blair's and Dan's past five years, reached a bit of UES closure as well as a certain point in their upcoming relationship (lbh, this isn't a spoiler, I always said they were endgame). Once that's been reached, I'd like to start a new fic with a more fitting title for the phase of their lives it'll be dealing with and apparently I'm bubbling over with ideas for those fics to come because I had rather clear visions of the plot for what I intend to be fic number three (!) so I'm really hoping you'll remain faithful to my musings beyond this particular fic. These visions of mine were a bit too lovey dovey for me to not write Dair as complete lovebirds in this chapter but they're definitely not at that stage just yet (kudos to Dan for prolonging the process with his comment in the last chapter I guess).  
This fic is also highly likely to become the longest fic out of my planned series I'm afraid because there is simply so much I want to say already. In a way, this fic might just be supposed to provide nearly full closure for all characters so that they can move on to a happier, carefree future. (Sounds cheesy af, doesn't it. Sorry.) Which is why this chapter was such a beast to get published. I've split it in so many parts while writing it (some have even been written in the waiting area of my local ER) and it's dealing with so much all at once so that the story will really progress and take us further to many milestones to come. I hope it still turned out somewhat alright and enjoyable to read. Sorry for bothering you with all my thought processes but I felt like I had to share my vision with you right at this moment or my brain might burst. Painting a vulgar picture right there. The next one's most likely to be another flashback to pregnant Blair (and hopefully a lot shorter and therefore published more quickly) Also, this is our first ever proper time skip in this story so far! GASP. What an event. As always, thank you so much for all the reviews! They are quite literally what keeps me going and gets me inspired time and time again. I wish I was joking but I'm not. 85% of the time, getting a new review fuels the muse. Welp. So dependant on the public opinion apparently. MOVING ON; FINALLY. I truly hope you all enjoy this chapter and that I'll get faster at updating again (it's highly likely, no worries, but let's not make promises; too much pressure)_

* * *

"Hold on, I'm sure I have one on there, I swear." Blair struggled not to laugh as she continued to search through her iCloud, having remembered that she had uploaded photos from various years that amused her in one way or another.

Noon had come by now and the three were seated at a table in the best-lit part of Sally's, currently waiting for their food to arrive. Cynthia was bubbling over with excitement whereas Dan was rubbing his temples and sighing a little too dramatically.  
"At least make sure it's a flattering one." He mumbled in defeat. "Although I just can't seem to grasp why you would possibly have a photo of me from way back then."

The brunette flashed him a grin once she realised he was still hoping she was only bluffing. She sure wasn't. Looking at that abomination of a buzz cut again had kept her going for years.

"Then you must have forgotten the glorious times when Serena made me take photos of you two that were _oh so_ _necessary_." She explained triumphantly, giggling as she watched him wreck his head, then visibly remember that she was right. As always.

Just as their plates were placed in front of them, bearing fast food Dan would never have pictured UES Blair consume in public, she threw her free hand up in the air as if she had just scored a jackpot - and in her opinion, she had.

"There it is." She singsonged, putting her phone down in the middle of the table so that both Cynthia and Dan had a good view of the screen. It now displayed a buzz cut rocking version of the latter from nearly a decade ago in his old high school uniform, sitting beside an also uniformed Serena on a step who appeared to be overjoyed to have her picture taken - his expression didn't quite match. Presumably because Blair had been sitting next to the blonde and already insulted him approximately fourteen times at this point before she gave in and took this photo.

Cynthia's eyes widened as she gulped at the screen, bursting out laughing after a mere second. Dan, on the other hand, had only needed a small peek to bury his head in his hands.

"I really didn't need to relive this." By now, he himself could hardly contain muffled laughter whenever he caught a glimpse of the screen again. "Please. Delete it."

"No way." The two Waldorf girls gasped in unison.

"This is a real jewel." Blair elaborated further, biting her lip for a moment to stay serious. "I'd much rather have this printed and framed."

"Don't you dare." Dan glared at her but still in a rather playful fashion. "Allow me to live down my mistakes for once in my life."

In the meantime, their daughter had seemingly gotten distracted, having had enough of the buzz cut bliss. Her eyes were now fixed on the slender blonde who was leaning a bit too comfortably against her father to not have a close connection to him.

"Who was she again?" She asked, frowning.

"Serena?" Both her parents's faces mirrored slight unease but Blair was quick to clarify the situation to their liking. "She was a close friend. Of both of us." She dismissed her. "Without her, your dad and I might not even know each other."

However, Cynthia still wasn't quite satisfied.

"So that's how you act around all your friends?" She questioned Dan, sounding somewhat accusing.

"Well..." He cleared his throat. What was the use in lying, right? She'd probably find out eventually and that her parents used to be seeing other people before they got together really wasn't unusual either. As long as they didn't tell her about their relationship status when she was conceived, this shouldn't cause any harm. "No, we were- we were sort of more than friends."

"So you were, like, dating?" The small girl gasped. "Is that even normal?"

"Of course it is." Dan struggled not to chuckle. "Perfectly normal. I mean, your mom was seeing someone else at the time as well. We were all with different people before we started dating."

"We were." Blair nodded affirmatively, thereby offering her daughter a glimpse of a whole new world, or so it seemed. "Hardly anyone still stays with the first person they ever date for the rest of their life."

"But then..." Cynthia's brows knit as she stopped to frown again. "I just don't get it. How come you two had me? I always thought you'd have to be married and if you don't, why didn't you have kids with all those other people?"

Alright, that escalated quickly. Nearly choking on his coke, Dan exchanged a meaningful glance with Blair whose tactic for the time being was delaying having to answer the real question.

"Why would you think people can only have children if they're married?" She asked her daughter innocently. "I mean, obviously, I had you anyway."

"I know." Cynthia shrugged. "But all the other kids' parents are married so I thought maybe you were as well."

"No, not to your father." Her mother added somewhat meekly.

"Then how does it work?" The little girl again demanded, her gaze expectantly straying between her parents. When Blair didn't immediately reply, Dan decided it was his turn to try and give her an explanation.

"There are plenty of requirements that have to be met so it's not very easy to explain." He began calmly, deciding to make things up as he went. "But you don't have to be married. What's more important is that you..." Now both Waldorfs were listening to him in curiosity.  
"That you have someone you love." He then decided to opt for. Some romanticisation should be just right for a four-year-old, even one who was as wise beyond her years as this one happened to be. "You also have to have reached a certain age. And it's also a matter of timing, you know, you can't just have a baby on every possible day just because you feel like it."

Cynthia was fascinated by his elaborations, Blair was suppressing a giggle but rather pleased with him and thus decided to help him out.

"That's true, it's really not that easy." She agreed. "You won't even know immediately if you're going to have a baby or not. Usually not until it's been at least a month after you have met up with that person you love. And then it's supposed to take at least another eight months until you actually have your baby. And that's that." She shrugged. "Nothing you have to worry about already."

"Or any time soon." Dan stressed.

Cynthia nodded, seemingly satisfied, before asking with a small, hopeful grin:

"Do you still love each other?"

Now this one he wasn't going to answer first, certainly not. He wasn't going to embarrass himself by behaving like a lovesick puppy in front of his daughter.  
Blair's answer came sooner than expected anyway - and left him mildly surprised.

"Yes." She had quietly declared. "But love is the most complicated thing there is, C."  
Maybe she was just saying that because she thought it was what Cynthia wanted to hear - oh whatever, not that it mattered. He himself had encouraged her that just being friends was the greatest idea she had ever had, he'd have to get used to the thought of that becoming reality for possibly the rest of his life.

This, once again, seemed to have sufficed for Cynthia who was again just nodding, then finally focusing on her food.

* * *

Silence emerged but it wasn't meant to last. For a moment, as Blair looked up from her food and across the table at Dan, a feeling of contentment she hadn't felt in a long time took a hold of her. What she had by now thought to be impossible was happening right in front of her very eyes - she got to offer her daughter an actual family lunch with her father.  
The fact that they were having junk food in a low maintenance diner couldn't even stain the preciousness of the moment. The treacherous thoughts now awaking in her, however, could. Suddenly, everything they had left ambiguous caught up with her and threatened to bury her under its weight.  
Even though Dan insisted he was going to be in the picture, this could be the last time in a long while they would be getting together like this for all she knew. Making this work once he was back in Brooklyn would be tough and she didn't even know when he would leave again - perhaps the time had come to sneakily inquire.

"Jackson is going to be euphoric once he spots your latest article now, I swear." She noted innocently, causing him to turn slightly pale. "I'll probably have to call you then before he does."

"Yeah uh," clearing his throat, he momentarily averted his eyes, only looking up at her again near the end of his confession, "I kind of doubt that's still going to happen since I quit."

Widened doe eyes stared back at him in confusion.

"You quit your job?" She repeated, sounding as if she was trying to talk to a madmen (but only in his ears). "When?"

"It was the thing I had to take care of when I went back to New York, actually." An awkward chuckle slipped. "You wouldn't have guessed that, right?"

"Definitely not." She shook her head no.

Yeah, she was absolutely convinced he had gone mad now, he could tell. (In reality, the only mad thing about him was his flawed perception)

Cynthia had also looked up from her food again, once more rocking the very satisfied grin she had already sported when she had questioned their feelings for each other but remained silent for the time being.

Blair's confusion still hadn't ebbed away. "But... Why?"

At least that was easy to answer.

"Because my job sucked and I don't want to stay in Brooklyn as long as that's nine hours away from you." He shrugged as if she should have at least guessed that.

Frankly, she had hoped that would be the reason. A girl could dream. But she never would have dared to just assume - although, if she was to think rationally for a moment, she certainly wouldn't have been able to come up with another reason other than complete insanity.

"So... You're planning on moving here?" She asked, just to be sure.

"I guess so." Another shrug from his side, followed by an excited interjection coming from Cynthia:

"You should totally move in with us!" The girl proposed nonchalantly, making both her parents gasp in protest.

"I really don't think that would be such a good idea." Dan was careful to dismiss her, exchanging a glance with Blair who didn't seem like she would have really put up a fight. "I mean, I don't want to just intrude. And I have a lot of stuff I'm sure you'd rather not have in your house. It would be really complicated." He swallowed in realisation. Moving in with them at this point wouldn't work - he wanted to, he did, but he'd have to be sure he could just be friends with Blair first thus it was definitely too early to be around her 24/7.  
However, keeping in mind that he was unemployed now and therefore lacking a regular income, finding a place to live might not be all that easy and moving into Orchard Street might just prove to be his only option.  
"Although I'm afraid I really can't afford this inn much longer so I ought to find something rather soon or I'll end up having to board Lighthouse Motel." As hard as he tried to make it sound like a joke, he still found himself struggling to find the right tone.

"We would never let you end up at that place." The elder Waldorf stated very seriously as both females frowned. "The owner looks like that old guy from the first Godfather movie who betrayed the Corleones."

Dan couldn't help but grin at the mention of the movie he very well remembered making her watch years ago. She had been skeptical at first to say the least, in spite of it being a beloved classic, but fifteen minutes in, she could no longer deny she was hooked.

"We'll see how finding a place works out for you." Blair continued. "And we'll help you, of course. And if things take a while to come around, you'll stay with us. I can't let you waste all your money on inns and crappy motels as long as there's a spare bedroom as soon as Dorota is back in New York."

"Sounds like an acceptable deal to me." He agreed casually, smiling due to the hint of determination in her voice that, though small, made it obvious that she would not take no as an answer. Maybe just being friends with such a caring version of Blair Waldorf would be easier than originally anticipated - or impossible because she was more desirable than ever.

* * *

Both Waldorf women were content with his reply and the rest of their lunch concluded without further revelations.  
Time flew by once they had left Sally's.  
A great variety of Cynthia's other favourite places in town had to be passed and praised, including a flower shop, the town's library which she thought to have an enchanted atmosphere, an ice cream parlour, as well as a mermaid shaped fountain. Dusk was approaching once the three reached the Waldorf residence again, ostensibly after Dorota. Dan lingered until Cynthia's bedtime who insisted he join her and her mother but for the time being, he still decided to serve as more of the passive observer than the active participant.  
One milestone a day was enough, two would be a bit too overwhelming.

Downstairs, Blair requested to have another word before he was allowed to head back to Seaside Inn.  
Even before she spoke, there was no doubt that she was going to use her serious, nearly festive tone she only required when she had to address a matter of great importance.

"Dan," as expected, she employed just the right dramatic voice of hers, "I just want to make sure you're sure about doing this because you don't have to."

"Sure about what?" He asked, slightly mockingly. "Moving here?"

"That as well." She nodded. "And giving up on New York and everything you have there."  
As he was about to open his mouth, she interrupted him once more. "I know, I know, you don't even have to say it. You would have turned your back on it in a heartbeat five years ago. But that was then and I'm sure there are things you've achieved over the past years and you shouldn't feel obliged to just drop all of that for us now."

"I don't feel obliged to do anything, Blair." He shook his head. "There is nothing holding me in New York. Not this crappy job, not the small amount of friends I still have left, not the remains of my family, not the unlikely possibility to ever be working for The New Yorker. I believe you and I both had to realise that some dreams just aren't meant to become reality. Basically, the only pro on my list of pros and cons for staying in New York is the fact that I get to live in an overpriced apartment there."

"An overpriced apartment in Brooklyn should be a con, Dan." Blair giggled quietly. "Drop by the boutique sometime tomorrow, okay? It's time we get your small town life in order."

* * *

The following Monday, Dan Humphrey could be spotted climbing the stairs that had been Blair Waldorf's sworn enemy so many times when she had to hurry upwards, already belated, to pick up their daughter.  
But today, today it was his turn.  
Blair would have inevitably been late due to a delivery thus he was fulfilling his fatherly duties and picking C up from daycare. This wasn't the first time he was doing this at all but the first time he was doing it on his own which left him tense to a certain extent. At least he wasn't at risk of being scolded for being late - if anything, only for being early.  
But he seemingly wasn't the only one. As he reached the correct, still closed door, he ran into no one other than Jackson Webber who was leaning against the doorframe.

"They don't let anyone in yet unless it's an emergency." The man explained, rolling his eyes as he motioned to the door.

"Are we that early?" Dan asked in surprise, choosing to lean against the doorframe on the opposite side.

"No, they just enjoy pestering us with unnecessary strictness." Jackson sneered.

"Great." Dan's mood was slightly dropping. Good thing that being early wasn't as morally questionable as being late but he had hoped he would get everything right and not look overly protective once these doors finally opened.

Jackson didn't seem to share his worries in the least but he still sensed them.  
"Don't worry. We might look uncool but at this age, the girls still appreciate it." Checking his watch once more, he shoved his hands his pockets. "What are your plans for today?"

"I don't really have any, to be honest." Dan shrugged helplessly. "I was going to improvise somehow keeping her busy until Blair's done with work."

"Then how about we go for coffee and ice cream?" Jackson proposed. "I just so happen to have news for you anyway."

* * *

Behind the closed door so ardently dreaded by the two men, their daughters were yet to stop indulging in not quite so carefree chatter.  
Lupita, being Cynthia's best friend, had become the little girl's confidante she confessed all her ever so small plots and schemes to, in a way seeking approval as well as encouragement although she knew all too well that she would pursue them in spite of her friend's opinion.  
Today was no different. Now that a week had passed, a week most prominently filled with one failure after the next if one was to ask her, she was slowly but surely getting impatient. Was she supposed to be making such slow progress? Was that how it worked, reigniting an old flame of former, or allegedly still existent, love? She had no clue whatsoever. It sure looked easier in The Parent Trap. If only she had a supportive twin to help her out.

Lupita had begun to feel sorry for her friend, only inquiring about her progress very hesitantly.

"So... Nothing's changed?" She asked in a pitiful tone.

"Hardly anything." Cynthia released a sigh of exasperation. "I just don't get it. Am I doing something wrong? I'm doing all the stereotypical things after all. I've tried jealousy but I don't think my mom really gets jealous. Maybe I'm just awful at this." She pouted. "Or maybe she is getting too jealous. She put a stop to my house viewing scheme."

In order to be able to fully grasp what C was referring to, it might benefit us greatly if we took a quick look back to the past week's happenings.  
Thanks to various telenovela episodes she had gotten to watch while under Dorota's observation, she had soon learned that the way to bring two people together who wouldn't get that they belonged together was usually to make one of them jealous. Since she had no idea how to make her father jealous, she decided that her mom would have to be the victim of jealousy.  
Over time, she increasingly demanded Dan's attention and usually was quick to receive it as well. Too bad she had neglected the minor but rather important detail that, in telenovela plots, the star-crossed lover was usually jealous of another possible love interest, not their own child.  
Upon realising that her plan wasn't going as expected, Cynthia was forced to do some rethinking and came to a very simple solution once it was time to take a look at Dan's first possible Cabot Cove abode.  
As promised, the Waldorfs were supporting him wherever they could - or well, Blair was. Cynthia, on the other hand, had come to the conclusion that if her father couldn't find a place, he'd have to move in with them - as formerly declared - and what else could bring two lovebirds closer than living together?  
Therefore, the little girl went out of her way to sabotage each and every viewing, as secretly as possible - but she got caught nonetheless.  
To say Blair wasn't amused would have been the understatement of the century but she still decided not to tell Dan. Instead, she made it very clear to their daughter that should he not find his own place to live here, he'd stay at his apartment in Brooklyn and they didn't want that now, did they? They didn't.  
Thus, she was now stuck in a worst case scenario - she didn't have another concrete scheme. All she was left to do was drop (not so) subtle hints here and there in hopes of reuniting her parents one baby step at a time. This wasn't enough for her at all. Perhaps she'd really have to try to somehow employ Parent-Trap-like, drastic measures. One would have to see what one could do.

At last, the doors were opened and both men let in but not without a dry comment concerning how early they were.  
Abruptly, the two girls put their conversation to a temporary end - God forbid any of Cynthia's secrets were spilled in front of one of her puppets - and instead retreated to innocent smiles.

"Hi daddy." C chirped cheerfully, seemingly already pondering what kind of traps he could be lured into (but her mildly devious smirk was successfully suppressed)

As had become their habit due to the girl's failed jealousy scheme, she found herself being lifted off her feet.

"Hi princess." Dan grinned at her. "Here's a proposition for you: how about some ice cream?"

* * *

Naturally, neither of the girls put up a fight and thus the group of four was headed to Cynthia's favourite ice cream parlour which was also famous for serving some of the best coffee in town.

Once the kids were decked out with their favourite flavours, they had found a quiet table in a corner where they could talk business which they would - although Dan didn't know it at this point.

"Has Cabot Cove grown on you already?" Jackson inquired in a joking manner, also being a former New Yorker who had fallen for this charming small town after getting married. Which didn't mean he didn't occasionally miss the buzz of the big city.  
So far, Dan had only found himself missing New York once so far - more specifically, the café-by-day-bar-by-night establishment in his street where he had been most productive while working on assigned articles. But he knew he'd be able to survive without it. In fact, he already had a few places in mind that could become his new fountain of inspiration.

"It's beginning to." He laughed. "I'm sure I would have grown even more accustomed to it by now if I had my own place to live and perhaps a job of sorts."

"Good thing I'm here to help you out with the latter." Jackson grinned. Blair had soon remembered that the man had connections to the Cabot Cove Gazette and asked if he could maybe help a friend out. Ostensibly, he could. "It's official. Gideon is more than willing to see you and he'd love to just see you tomorrow already."

"Tomorrow?" Dan gasped in astonishment. "Tomorrow is... Tomorrow is soon. But great, tomorrow is fine. Tomorrow is wonderful."  
A job interview certainly was a step forward, that he would now fret about them expecting a glowing recommendation from the New York Times - Jackson had of course considered that former employment a selling point and it looked like he had been right - didn't matter just yet.

"Good. Don't worry, you're ready." The other man encouraged him eagerly. "All you should probably bring is a brief little CV but even that isn't so important. I decked them out with some of my favourite articles of yours and they're already ecstatic. They'll probably just call your old boss up and that'll be it. You pretty much have the job already."

Sure he did. Surely, after a conversation with his former boss whom he called a rat as he quit.

Cynthia wrinkled her nose. "Daddy, do you really have to work?" She asked dramatically.

Dan furrowed his brows. "Of course I do. I need the money or I won't even be able to buy you ice cream anymore." He half-chuckled. "And we don't want that, do we?"

"No." The little girl frowned. "But then you won't have time for me anymore, right? You'll work as much as mommy, won't you?"

"Well," he pursed his lips, "one of the perks of working in my job is that you're usually not stuck at the office all the time but you can do a lot of work from home so... I'd say I won't have a lot less time for you than I do now. I definitely shouldn't be as busy as your mom."

Cynthia nodded, satisfied with his reply. "That should be quite alright." She concluded in that very serious grown-up tone of hers that always drove him to the edge of hysterical laughter he miraculously managed to contain. "And you're sure you don't just want to move in with us?"

"Yeah, we're all sure that's not the best idea." He assured her softly. "You'll see, having my own place will be nice. I'm sure you'll like it. Besides, that doesn't change the fact that I spend all of my free time with you."

Once more, the girl decided to leave it at that, already trying to come up with plots that might work out in her favour.

* * *

"If you could just unpack that last box, you're good to call it a day." Blair kindly instructed her employee Lola who had shown some exceptional work discipline today.

"Sure." The redhead shot her a blissful smile as she cut the box open. "So... Are you at least going to let me in on what's going on between you and the formerly bearded Brooklyn guy now?" She asked innocently, once again unable to fight her curiosity.

Blair shot her a sarcastic, but amused glare. Was that girl really still trying?  
"I wouldn't know what could possibly make you think that I'd suddenly share details of my personal life with you but to satisfy your curiosity: there is absolutely nothing going on between me and Dan." She set her straight with determination.

"And I'm supposed to believe that because...?" Lola chose to ignore her earlier lecture. "It's not like you admitted to him being your baby daddy when I asked about your relationship."

"Don't use the term 'baby daddy.'" The brunette frowned in disgust. "That makes me sound so cheap."

"Sorry." An apologetic singsong reached Blair's ears, followed by another relentless inquiry. "But really now - why not?" Lola pouted.

"Why should there be anything?" Her boss rolled her eyes. "It's been five years. People change. Feelings change and that's that."  
Of course she could have very easily shushed her employee but if she was perfectly honest, she didn't want to. The past week had taken its silent toll on her emotional stability and talking about it seemed to nurse her struggling nerves.

Lola's voice made her snap out of her early stage of pondering.

"So he's to blame?" She had more stated than asked.

Blair's brows knit in confusion. "What?"

"I was just trying to figure out whose feelings changed." Lola shrugged dismissively. "I always thought he was still into you but maybe he had me fooled. But it can't be you since you light up every time you see him."

"I do _not_." Blair gasped. "That is the biggest lie you ever told. Go ahead and tell me when I _ever_ lit up in his company."

"Last week." The girl grinned. "And you will again in a few seconds." She then declared, motioning to the opening door.

Glaring at the redhead once more who was now unpacking the box as if their little exchange had never taken place, Blair's nails dug into the counter before her gaze moved to the door.  
If she really lit up, the reason for that had to be seeing her daughter, not Dan. Or maybe the combination of the two of them together.  
Right? Right.  
What did Lola know about maternal feelings? Little to nothing. There. Perfect explanation.

Dan and Cynthia had still been preoccupied with their earlier discussion about the duties of a journalist and if working for a newspaper or writing books was more fun, and therefore, her brief inner struggle went unnoticed, much to her liking.  
A sweet smile was grazing her lips as she greeted the two new arrivals.

"Did you have a nice day together?" She asked, addressing Cynthia who was now seated on top of the counter.

"Uhu." Her daughter confirmed cheerfully. "We went for ice cream with Lupita and her dad."

"Oh, ice cream?" Raising an eyebrow, Blair exchanged a judgemental glance with Dan who was rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, ice cream. Just two scoops once in a while shouldn't kill her." He noted sarcastically.

"Of course not. I didn't say anything." The brunette corrected him innocently, quick to switch the topic.  
"Anyway," her smile turned into a triumphant grin, "I have great news for you."

"Even more good news today?" He asked in surprise. "I have a job interview tomorrow thanks to Jackson."

"You- Dan, that's wonderful." Blair beamed. "And Mrs Robins will love to hear that. She stopped by today and guess what - she owns a cabin two streets from our house she used to rent out during the summer but she's made some bad experiences last year and would much prefer a permanent resident now. We could even take a look at it this evening still. Thanks to my glorious description of you, you basically live there already."

Baffled, Dan checked her face for any ever so little sign that she was joking - but the pride shining in her eyes served as the needed reassurance.

"You know who's the best?" He couldn't keep himself from grinning as he helped Cynthia off the counter again. "Your mom is, without a doubt."

"I'm glad you've finally realised that." Blair struggled not to smile too brightly - she certainly couldn't look all lit up as long as Lola was waiting for her to. "Years late but I guess you've never been the quickest."

"Maybe I just withheld my opinion from you until now." Dan chose to correct her with a grin. "Moving on: can we still go see it today then? Do I look presentable enough?"

"We can and you do." Blair told him generously, motioning to his surprisingly dressy shirt. "You should have acquired that kind of style ages ago."

Blessing her with a playful glare, he at first mocked her tone. "Ages ago, I know. It still feels far too dressed up to me."

"It's dressed down the second you even just skip a tie." The brunette informed him bluntly. "Which means you were actually underdressed at every other event I saw you attend."

"Thank you very much for making me feel even more out of place in retrospect." No matter how hard he tried to sound seriously offended, he failed miserably.

Though Cynthia had remained silent throughout their exchange, she had been exceptionally focused, not missing a second of it and thus witnessing a change in her parents' demeanour that could only be working in her favour.  
The foundation for a new a scheme perhaps? Possibly. Maybe this would be easier than it had originally seemed after all.

* * *

The cabin didn't stray far from its description - it was indeed only two streets from Orchard Street and it was...  
Well, a cabin. Nothing more and nothing less.  
The price was more than reasonable, presumably because most people would not consider it comfortable enough to make it their permanent residence but Dan found it strangely charming. Granted, the fact that he could easily afford a year's rent even unemployed as long as he gave up his Brooklyn apartment and that it seemed to be his first real residential option here might have contributed to his strictly positive opinion but he was still convinced that there was more to it than just simplicity and an affordable price.  
In all honesty, he could picture himself creating masterpieces of literature here. Not to mention the fact that both Blair and Cynthia, who was on her best behaviour today, urged him to take it left at least a small part of him thinking that by chance, but only by chance, this could only be a temporary residence after all.

And his daughter was very much sharing his thoughts.

* * *

"Mr. Humphrey, it's a pleasure to meet you." A nearly too ecstatic male voice belonging to Harris Gideon greeted Dan the next day.  
The moment of truth had come; his job interview at the Cabot Cove Gazette had begun.  
In other words, an interview for a job he was convinced he would not get ever since Jackson had brought up that they were expecting glowing recommendations from The Times. Glowing recommendations a rat named Fusco surely would not be able to give him ever since having been declared a rat.  
Alas, if he continued to try to imagine what kind of tales Fusco might have spun to efficiently ruin his career in this small town, he could as well just turn around and walk out of the door again.

Instead, he blessed his potential new boss with a polite "the pleasure is all mine" and took a seat once he was offered one.

"Let's keep this short," was how Gideon chose to start their interview. Very promising, right? The perfect intro to very bad news. "There's really no need for us to waste time and go through this whole interview procedure."  
A dismissive wave of his hand was nearly interpreted as a signal to leave already. So, no job. Fine. Whatever. He'd just have to force himself to write a book instead. About whatever. If he only tried hard enough, he would make it work.  
"Frankly, I've read your book. I've loved those articles of yours Mr. Webber pointed out to me. And your former boss called you, I quote, 'the best writer he ever had the pleasure of working with' and asked me to convince you to come back to New York to work for him instead. So here's the only question I have for you today: are you really sure you want to work for nothing more than the Cabot Cove Gazette?"

Hold on - he _had_ to be kidding him. Fusco said w_hat?!_  
It took all of Dan's self-control to keep himself from gasping and he had never been more grateful for succeeding at keeping a neutral expression.

"I am indeed." He declared without a second thought. "I am no longer responsible for just myself and in that context, this is the best decision I could possibly make. Besides, working for The Times really isn't as great as most people make it out to be."  
The last part was made to be sound like a sarcastic joke, accompanied by a light-hearted eye roll although he was more than serious. No matter how badly Fusco wanted him back, his time at The New York Times was up. That was a chapter he had finally finished and would now happily leave behind him.

"In that case," Gideon jumped to his feet, smiling a smile that could have lit up the entire room as he offered him his hand for a handshake, "congratulations, you - unsurprisingly - got the job. You start Monday if that's alright with you."  
_Unsurprisingly_ indeed.

* * *

"Guess who is no longer an unemployed derelict who won't ever amount to anything anymore?" had been blurted out by a grinning Dan before Blair could even greet him, having just opened the front door.

"What an unsolvable riddle." Giggling in a flash of uncharacteristic carefreeness, the brunette pulled him into a tight hug without further warning. Not that he minded that in the least.  
"Congratulations." She had to hum against his shoulder due to not wearing heels prior to stepping back again. "Not that I would have expected anything else."

"Oh, I was expecting something else." He admitted, once more shaking his head in disbelief that no one was playing a particularly cruel joke on him. "Mostly because I called my last boss a rat so I really wasn't expecting any recommendations from his side. Let alone ones that were so over the top."

"Really?" Blair's dry tone was in perfect sync with her judgemental gaze. "You called your boss a rat?"

"To my defense, I was very enraged and sleep deprived and had just found out about my gift of sudden fatherhood and was therefore – I guess confused describes it best." Surprisingly enough, Blair even seemed to accept that poorly worded excuse.  
"Anyway, that was still irrational Brooklyn-Dan and that's all over now." He therefore continued. "Which is why I'm here, actually. I'm not starting until Monday and that's why I want to use the spare time to close the New York chapter of my life for good. In other words, I'll head back to get the rest of my stuff and get rid of my apartment." He informed her, a hint of carefulness already present in his voice.

"Sounds… very reasonable to me." Blair soon decided without further hesitation. "Do you need any help with that?"

He shook his head no.  
"No, I guess I'm good but…" Biting his lip, he momentarily lowered his gaze but searched her eyes again before he resumed speaking. "Blair, I'll have to tell my dad about this… this granddaughter situation."

_Oh_. Well. She should have guessed it, she really should have.  
Still, a moment of silence emerged between the two as Blair tried to stay calm. It had been more than obvious that her well-guarded secret could no longer remain as top secret as it had previously been but somehow she wasn't quite ready for its status to actually change nonetheless.  
But she had to be. She couldn't expect him to keep this from Rufus. Keeping in mind that he had turned his entire life around for her in a matter of two weeks, it wouldn't be fair to even deprive him off the right to tell his own father about his daughter. And just because Rufus would know didn't mean the entire population of New York would have to, did it?  
Thus, her response eventually began with a simple "I know" that caught Dan very much off guard.  
"Tell him." She continued softly, reaching for his hands to stress just how important the limitation she was about to establish was to her. "But please – for now, only him."


	13. the simple way was not for us

_a/n: hello there, lovelies! here's another flashback chapter starring pregnant Blair - hopefully to your leisure. The next chapter shall cover Dan leaving New York behind for good and of course breaking the news to Rufus and then we'll take it right back to Cabot Cove. As always, I've loved your reviews and they've definitely supplied me with plenty of inspiration for the next one as well as future chapters (such as another Vanessa cameo and putting a stronger focus on the whole breaking the news to Rufus scene which I might have only covered very sparsely and unsatisfactory originally)  
Anyway, brief author's note for once; I really hope you'll enjoy this one and here comes the usual thank you for all the support in the form of reviews, follows, favourites and so on! Guest Stars include: Dorota, Eleanor &amp; Cyrus; Special Guest Star: Serena van der Woodsen xoxo_

* * *

"So I'm almost certain it's just a false alarm but I thought I ought to make sure just to be safe."  
Seated at the opposite side of the desk of her trusted gynaecologist, Blair concluded the little tale she had spun concerning her possible pregnancy - the same possible pregnancy that surely was nothing more but a scare to get her out of her rut.

"I see." Dr. Ruben Bernstein nodded. "And you might of course be right since you do have a prescription which you have of course been taking as you are supposed to, haven't you?"

"Of course." The brunette's first instinct had been to wholeheartedly agree but admitting the bitter truth could not be avoided.  
"Or well," squeezing her eyes shut, she hurriedly blurted it out as if it left a sour taste in her mouth. "I may have forgotten to keep taking it the past two weeks. As well as on the day I was last, well, _active_."  
Peeking up again, she could see the man staring at her in disbelief.  
"But there's still a chance it's just a false alarm, right? I mean, it was just this _one_ time if I recall correctly."  
More like four times in one night but she considered that to be a detail she could keep to herself without needing to have a guilty conscience.

"Well, Ms Waldorf..." The fact that Dr. Bernstein was employing his typical sorry-to-break-it-to-you-but-here's-a-reality-check-voice did not calm her in the least, though calmness was precisely what she had hoped to gain from this visit.  
Not having to deal with an even bigger problem than the ones she already had. She was all covered there, thank you very much.  
"Considering the circumstances and the fact that a false positive is far less likely than a false negative, I'm afraid your chances are relatively slim."

And with that, all of her hopes were suddenly crushed.  
Or at least most of them.  
She would cling onto the smallest piece that was still left until she had actual confirmation.

"But let's just get you tested and then we shall see, shall we?" The doctor's voice was now far too cheerful for her ears, thus she simply nodded numbly.

* * *

The needed blood was quickly drawn but actually analysing the sample would take a few hours - hours Blair wasn't willing to spend at home waiting.  
Not now that her mother was home. She would sense that she was anxiously waiting for something and make assumptions if she didn't answer to her liking.  
Thus, the petite brunette soon found herself seated in the waiting room, skipping through a total of three outdated issues of Vogue until she gave up on trying to distract herself. Peace of mind simply wasn't an option for her until she had clarity.  
Instead, she let her gaze wonder through the room, closely scanning the faces of the other people in the room and imagining their possible life stories.

The heavily pregnant girl accompanied by her husband who were constantly holding hands, as if they were at risk of falling of their chairs if they ever let go.  
Was this going to be her life now? Most definitely not.  
Granted, she might end up as heavily pregnant and sweaty as this girl but that would be it.  
Alas, her relationship status was what really made this situation unbearable.

How desperately she wished she could switch places with the redhead in the other corner whom she believed to have seen out and about with Serena once upon a time.  
She was probably only here to get tested for chlamydia and she didn't at all mind if people jumped to that conclusion or she would have kept a lower profile.  
Blair, on the other hand, had felt so ashamed about coming here that her choice of clothing turned out even more chaste than usual.  
As if she had reason to justify her doings. As if anyone here had the right to judge her for what she had done.

At least she did not want to be in the last season Prada pumps of the girl who had sat down next to her when she was still on her third Vogue of the day.  
Quite frankly, she was beginning to pity the girl who was ostensibly struggling to keep it together.  
Perhaps that should be her natural reaction to this whole ordeal. Not one of outward indifference but inward fright.  
Just about to ask her if she needed some water since no one else seemed to be paying the poor thing any attention at all - Dr Bernstein should really consider employing more compassionate staff - she heard her name being called.  
Fi-na-lly. She couldn't remember the last time she had been so eager to leave a waiting room to instead get a diagnosis.  
Hadn't she always been the type who liked to pretend that her majorly lingering problems didn't exist?  
The type who mostly lacked the courage to face her future?  
Perchance she was at last mature enough to willingly face whatever obstacle was coming her way.

* * *

"Well then, Ms Waldorf..." Dr. Bernstein's look said it all. It had this undeniable I-told-you-so-vibe to it he had perfectly mastered. "I'm afraid your chances were indeed as slim as I predicted. You're pregnant, without a doubt."

And just like that, the smallest piece of hope Blair had still been clinging onto was torn from her clasping fingers.  
She was convinced her numb expression made it rather obvious as well.  
Even Dr. Bernstein seemed to contemplate feeling sorry for her.  
Him clearing his throat was also what brought her back from her trance.

"Would you like me to talk you through your options?" He offered in a soothing tone.

Without having to give the matter further thought, Blair replied with a still rather numb "No".

"Are you sure?" Dr. Bernstein inquired with concern. "It's still very early on so we could do absolutely everything-"

"No, I'm keeping it." She again cut him off.  
Even if this was completely throwing her off track and happening at what might just be the most inconvenient time ever, there was no need for her to consider her options.  
In fact, she thought she now knew why she had been in such ardent denial until she had complete confirmation: she had always known that if she really was going to have a baby, she would be a mother nine months from now.  
No matter whose baby this was - although she couldn't deny that she had a clear preference.  
Or did she? Did she really prefer Humphrey genes over Bass genes? Possibly.  
The child would be at risk of having horrible fashion sense but hopefully her impeccable taste would be hereditary there instead.  
But if it was to inherit some of Dan's personality traits, she couldn't really complain. Chuck's personality however...

Come to think of it, there was still another thing she certainly needed to be sure about: the father's identity.  
She wouldn't be able to be one of those mothers who didn't even knew which guy had fathered her child.  
Whenever she did the maths, she came to the conclusion that Dan had to be the only option but who really knew, right?  
Considering she wouldn't have even noticed that she was late without Serena's help, she probably wasn't the best source for certainty.

"How far along am I anyway?" She inquired rather casually.

"You're right at the very beginning." Dr. Bernstein shrugged. "I'd say two to three weeks. Maybe four."

"Wow. How very accurate." Blair couldn't keep herself from scoffing. "You couldn't determine the date of conception a little more precisely?"

"Depends on when your last period started." He again shrugged.

"Well..." Blair's brows knit as she tried to think of the exact date. "Well, I don't remember. But I was supposed to have it again now."

"Then we'd have to go with sometime two weeks ago."

Now that was a lot more satisfying - but not satisfying enough.

"Alright..." She released a sigh of relief - hopefully well-deserved.

Dr. Bernstein appeared to be guessing her worries.

"Ms Waldorf," he began, careful not to offend her, "don't think me rude for asking but should a paternity test be in order?"

Blair bit her lip. "It should."

* * *

Outside, the brunette was immediately greeted by Dorota who had been anxious to hear from her, originally wanting to wait in the waiting room before Blair instructed her to get her macarons instead - she would surely need them to calm her nerves.

"Alas, Dorota, you are looking at a mother-to-be." Blair informed her rather dramatically.

"Oh, Miss Blair!" Dorota gasped. "How we feel about this?"

"We're alright with it." She was brushed off with a shrug. "But listen, there's something I need you to do for me: I need Humphrey's DNA for a paternity test and you're going to help me get it."

Dorota stared at her in disbelief. "But Miss Blair, how do I-"

"Simple." Miss Blair cut her off. "We still have his jacket and I'm sure there have to be some strands of his hair on there. He has so much of it that surely some must be falling out at a consistent rate. All you need to do is find me a single strand and we're good to go." She instructed as she picked a pink macaron from the now opened box.  
"I just know you'll do me proud."

* * *

The next day, Blair Waldorf, mother-to-be, was getting ready to leave the safety of her bedroom yet again.  
As promised, she would meet up with Serena to have coffee in public.  
Quite frankly, she wasn't exactly up for it but what use would protest be? Precisely none.  
She couldn't come up with a decent enough excuse unless she let Serena in on her little pregnancy secret and she wasn't quite ready for that.  
Mostly because she would not be able to take Serena's hurt ego trip that was surely about to come if she mentioned that Dan was most likely to be the father.  
In fact, she didn't want to tell anyone just yet - except for Dan himself whenever this nagging voice inside her head, the very same one that had gotten her into this state in the first place, told her to drop everything and seek comfort in Brooklyn again.  
But this time, she wasn't going to give in. Not a chance.  
It was far too early to indulge on yet another mission of stupidity.  
She would go see him once she got a positive test result for his DNA and not a second sooner - and at the rate that Dorota was working, this could still take ages.

"Any luck yet?" Even just watching Dorota scan every inch of the fabric with a magnifying glass, tweezers and the small vial they'd need to send in ready to be employed, exhausted her.

"All I found so far is your hair, Miss Blair." Dorota threw her what could be a considered a bitter look.

"My apologies for skipping conditioner that day." Blair rolled her eyes as she actually found herself kneeling down beside her. "But maybe you're just sorting the wrong ones out. If you're going by length, you probably are."

"No, I'm going by colour, thank you." Dorota scoffed. "They all as light as your hair. Twelve of them."

"You're just not looking closely enough." Blair insisted, snatching the magnifying glass from her. "I see; if you want to get a job done correctly, you still have to do it yourself." Narrowing her eyes, she tried her best to do a better job than her faithful maid - but failed miserably at first.

"This thing is awful." She groaned, handing the magnifying glass back to Dorota who happily picked up where she had left off. "Don't we have another one that doesn't make you dizzy whenever you catch a glimpse of this horrendous fabric?"

The maid chose to ignore her complaints, instead soon gasping in delight.

"There, Miss Blair, I think we have something!" She cheered, sporting a successful grin.

"Let me see!" B demanded, tweezers and vial already in hand as she leaned down to sneak a peek. "Oh, you're right!" She squealed. "At least you I can still trust, Dorota."

Holding her breath, she carefully plucked the hair off the fabric, nearly moving in slow motion, to securely store it in the vial Dorota was now holding in position for her.

"And we're done." Grinning back at the maid, she was quick to find the required envelope and slipped the vial inside before handing it to the maid.

"Get this to Dr. Bernstein as soon as possible, okay? Maybe it's best if you leave as well when Serena picks me up. I'm really hoping the results will be in before Chuck comes back."

"Of course, Miss Blair." Dorota assured her. Just as the two women were about to embrace, Eleanor's voice made them snap out of their bliss.

"Looks like you have really regained your spirits, Blair." A judging gaze looked her up and down before Eleanor motioned to Serena who was by now standing beside her. "Going out again today, all of a sudden?"

"Well, what can I say?" The younger Waldorf shrugged, not allowing anyone to put her in a bad mood again now that Dorota and her had been successful. "Life goes on even after you've married the biggest mistake of yours. Let's just get going, S." She then turned to the blonde, swiftly passing her mother - and finally, no longer lacking all motivation to spend an hour or two with Serena.

* * *

"So... I still don't think I really get it, B." Serena informed the brunette with narrowed brows. "When exactly did you realise that you no longer wanted to be with Chuck?"

"I don't know. Like... an hour after we got married?" Blair rolled her eyes. "I believe this isn't the first time I've told you this."

"Yeah, but it's just so hard to understand." The blonde whined. "Just how is that supposed to work? How do you go from marrying someone to hating his guts within two hours?"

Her friend blessed her with a dismissive shrug. "Haven't you ever looked at someone and suddenly realised that even though you believed him to be the right choice for you, he simply wasn't what you imagined him to be?"

"I... guess?" Serena frowned a frown of uncertainty.

"See," Blair stressed triumphantly. "That's what happened with me and Chuck. The timing could hardly be any worse, I know, but that's just the way it is. It's not like I can help it and force myself to love him again. Believe me, I was willing to try but it's definitely not going to work anymore."

Serena nodded quietly, taking another sip from her latte; Blair had instead opted for ice tea, the pure thought of consuming a cup of coffee making her stomach twist.

"So you're absolutely sure you won't get back with Chuck?" Serena inquired once more. "I mean, you know him, he's Chuck. He's playing it cool but I'm sure he's devastated."

Naturally, he was _devastated._  
A crystal clear case of hurt pride if you asked her but what did Serena know.  
It wasn't like she hadn't contemplated giving their relationship another try - all she had asked of him was to not stay married.  
But after their last encounter, there definitely was no way back for her. Especially not now that she no longer only had herself to think of.

"I am." She sighed. "I don't know how he is even still capable of thinking we still have a chance. We've both said things we cannot take back when we last saw each other."

"Too bad." Serena sighed as well. "We were all so happy for you. Nate and I - I honestly think even Dan accepted that you two simply belonged together."

Oh yeah,_ sure_ he did. Blair nearly chocked on her ice tea.

"That's definitely not what he told me." She muttered so quietly that she was hoping Serena hadn't heard it. "But we don't _belong_ together. No one really belongs to _anyone_." She then found herself correcting the blonde.

"Well, I always thought that was the ultimate goal." Serena persisted. "Finding the one you belong to. And I always believed that to be Chuck for you and possibly Dan for me."

Instantly, she received vehement backlash from the petite brunette.

"No. Don't think I'm being rude but you and Dan are a horrible couple. Always have been, always will be."

Momentarily, Serena's expression was unreadable, then displayed complete and utter confusion.

"What? Why?" She nearly stuttered. "You sound like you did in high school when you didn't want to get to know him. How can you still say that now that you've even been with him?"

"The fact that I know him very well now is exactly why I'm saying this." Blair bitterly brushed her off. "You two have zero common interests. Not the best foundation for a functional relationship."

"I don't think any girl out there really shares his interests." Serena claimed boldly, gaining herself an eye roll from Blair's side.

"I do." The blonde was instantly corrected.

"Wait-" Serena's belated thought process finally began. "Are you saying that you two were a better couple than me and him?"

"It's 'him and you' if you're going to employ good grammar. And I'm not." The brunette innocently clarified. "All I originally said was that you two are horrible together, not that we are a match made in heaven. And your faulty grammar use just proved my point. If I had to set you up with someone with common interests, it would probably be Nate."

"And to think your original plan was to become Blair Archibald." Serena shook her head, deciding not to hold a grudge against her friend who was probably still horribly confused by whatever flash of madness had driven her to disappear on her wedding night.

"And we're right back at my earlier point." Blair nodded. "Sometimes your visions of whom you're going to end up with are just faulty. But at least Blair Archibald would have sounded good. Unlike Blair Bass." The mention of her current last name (which she had not bothered to use so far) was accompanied by a frown.

"But according to your theory of common interests, it'll have to be Serena Archibald and Blair Humphrey." Serena teased in a playful manner, her former tirade about belonging with Dan seemingly long forgotten.

"Still sounds better, don't you think?" Blair decided to join her laughter.  
Strangely enough, she was really starting to like the sound of Blair Humphrey. Presumably just an early case of pregnancy hormones.

* * *

Back in the safety of her well-known, trusted four walls, Blair had decided she was already in desperate need of alone time again - the Mini-Waldorf that would now be her constant companion for the next eight months aside.  
Even though the time she had had to think about all of this had been fairly limited so far, it had not taken her long to come to a life-changing conclusion: no matter whose baby she was having, she was not willing to raise it here.  
Not in the Upper East Side and God forbid not in Brooklyn (although, if she was being perfectly honest with herself, she by now considered Brooklyn to be a safer environment than the UES). No, this city and the pressure it was putting on everyone could only be considered toxic for her child and she would spare it her negative childhood experiences as long as they could be avoided.  
Not that she had turned out to be despicable person due to her upbringing, not in the least.  
But she couldn't help fantasising about what kind of person she might be had her life been different, had she maybe been brought up in the suburbs or a small town far away from the glitz and glamour of New York City. A peaceful, carefree life was what Blair wanted to be able to offer her child and so far, she believed the best way to achieve that would be to not only leave the city but even the country.  
France should work flawlessly. She could live close to her father and Roman; they would surely be willing to help out with the baby. She could take over Waldorf Designs, just like she had always been supposed to (in all honesty, who else could get the job done but her? Precisely no one).

Wasn't it strange to think that only yesterday, she had still been in denial and now she had willingly accepted her fate and was ready to work with what she had?  
It had to be but she was more than glad to be reacting this way. A child had not been part of her original plan but she'd make it work and that was what really mattered. As long as she started early enough, she would have everything perfectly plotted out and could dive right into her new life.  
Actually, why didn't she call her dad already? Within seconds, the brunette had reached for her phone and made the call - which, however, proved to be dissatisfying as it went to voicemail after a torturously long wait.  
Well, whatever. She'd still have enough time to call and arrange everything. She couldn't leave without the results of her paternity test anyway.  
Nonetheless, she would very much prefer to be able to board a plane the second her marriage to Chuck would be annulled.  
God, Chuck.  
A slight shiver travelled down her spine at the pure thought of him finding out about her pregnancy - especially if she was right about this whole paternity question.  
Yet another reason why she should get out of here - her child should not be around Chuck Bass. Not even if it, against all odds, turned out to be his.

Come to think of it, would France really be the right choice for her if she was longing for a life far away from the UES drama?  
Because one thing she knew for sure, she would not only leave this city behind but with it the people she was acquainted with here.  
Chuck certainly wasn't the only one on her list of people she did not want around this child.  
France was the most logical move for her - and all her friends also knew that.  
Meaning if Chuck wanted to set out to find her at the brink of his typical insanity, he would succeed in no time and allowing that to happen would be straight up reckless on her side.

Besides, and that was an even more striking con, if she were to indeed take over the label, she was at risk of ending up like her mother.  
Alas, who was she trying to fool? She would end up exactly like her mother.  
She'd be so focused on keeping the label on the route to success that she would neglect her little one who would form a closer bond to its nanny than to her.  
Granted, she would not want to live in a world in which she couldn't confine in Dorota.  
But her child deserved to have a close relationship with her, close enough that she would end up being the designated confidante.  
Perhaps that picture perfect relationship wouldn't work out as expected but a girl could dream and she would do everything in her might to make it possible. And that would include spending as much time with the Waldorf-to-come as she could manage to devote.

Meaning that the ship to France had basically just sunk for good.  
Great. This had just become a lot harder than originally anticipated.  
But she knew not to give in just yet.

Thus, she did what every rationally thinking girl who was in desperate need of a plan would do - she googled.  
She googled terms such as 'lowest murder rate on the East Coast', 'most family friendly small towns' and 'best overall academic performance' because the time for schooling would come and frankly, no one liked to be murdered.  
The murder rate keyword eventually helped her make a choice - otherwise, it might have taken her weeks to pick a town.

As she was learning more and more about the history of her new home-to-be, a shy knock on her door interrupted her studies.  
Cyrus peeked his head into the room as soon he had gained permission to do so. "Blair, I thought I'd take it upon me to tell you that dinner is ready since your mother and Dorota are indulging in a rather heated debate about your behaviour."

"Thanks Cyrus." Blair offered him a weak smile. Her mother was a factor she had somehow forgotten to include in her calculations thus far. How was she even supposed to move to a small town where she knew absolutely nobody? On her own, pregnant? All of this complete insanity, wasn't it?

Cyrus blessed her with a satisfied nod but also sensed that she had something on her mind.

"Is everything alright?" He inquired, not lacking concern.

"Actually..." Blair bit her lip. If her father wasn't going to pick up the phone to come to her rescue, why should she turn down the help her stepfather might be willing to offer? "There's something I could really use some help with."

* * *

"Miss Blair, oh, look what I have here!" Dorota struggled to contain her excitement upon entering the room, immediately pulling the door shut behind her prior to revealing an envelope she had been hiding underneath her apron.

"Oh God, it's finally here!" Blair cheered. "Just on time."

Over a week had passed since she had found out about her pregnancy and sent in the required DNA sample - and although she knew that she had still received her results impeccably early, waiting patiently had not been an option.

"Open it!" Dorota demanded in a flash of excitement and Blair was indeed tempted to rip it open the second she had gotten a hold of the envelope but once it was in her tight grip, she began to hesitate. There was something she needed to do first.  
A few minutes prior, she had received a text from Chuck who would soon have to end their 'honeymoon', as he still insisted on calling it which was still left unanswered.  
Now the time had come. No matter what she was to know after reading what this envelope had in store for her, her decision was final.

"In a moment." She therefore decided to put this on hold, sitting down on the edge of her bed and replacing the envelope with her phone, hurriedly typing a text she could have and should have sent long ago.

"I haven't changed my mind, Chuck. I still want us to get this marriage annulled."

The second this long overdue message was on its way to its recipient, Blair was on her feet again, ready to face the truth. Taking a deep breath, her nails were already slipping beneath the paper and cutting through the glue that kept it from springing open. Her eyes were closed as she tucked the document out.  
Another moment, then she'd open them.  
And she did.

There it was, black on white. Exactly what she had hoped for. This was hers and Dan's baby.

"Oh, thank you, dear God." Blair's sigh of relief brought a huge smile on Dorota's face.

"We have reason to celebrate?" She made sure to double check.

"We do." Blair confirmed, actually hugging the document to her chest for a brief moment of weakness. "It's Humphrey. All is well."

No further words were required for the two to embrace. Whatsoever, the soft beep coming from Blair's phone made them break apart again.

"Could you give me a minute?" The brunette requested, motioning to her phone. "I need to take care of this Chuck mayhem."

Of course Dorota obeyed, looking even giddier once she was instructed to tone down the giddiness since the elder Waldorf was yet to be informed.  
Now that was a reveal she certainly wasn't looking forward to in the least but she'd still have to take care of it tonight.

But first, Chuck. Sitting down on her bed again, she braced herself for a shitstorm a la Bass - unnecessarily so.  
All his reply said was a simple 'Are you sure?'.

"I am." She hurriedly typed in response. "I'm sorry but I've made up my mind."

And just like that, he appeared to give up with a "Then I'll be back tomorrow."  
Meaning she had just about achieved everything she had wanted and needed in order to leave this life behind and become a new version of herself: Blair Waldorf, small town resident and single mother.

But as she sat there, revelling in her apparent success, it suddenly hit her that she had horrendously miscalculated.  
Though she had desperately hoped that Dan would be the father, she had never once wasted even as much as a single thought on what she would do if that likely scenario was actually going to be reality.  
Had it been Chuck, everything would have been clear: she would have gotten the marriage annulled, left without a word and prayed that he'd never find out. But this was a whole different situation. Should she tell him maybe? She should.

Her phone still in hand, she found herself blankly staring at the screen.  
What was one to say in such a call that would break nearly a month of silence?  
Hi, guess who is four weeks pregnant?  
Definitely not. One would have to be a little more subtle.  
Before she even knew it, she had selected his number from her contacts and her phone had started to dial.  
Okay, no need to get nervous. She would just say something along the lines of 'something happened; don't freak out about it' or something.  
No, that was awful. Quite frankly, revealing such big, life-changing news over the phone was awful in general.  
She'd simply ask if she could come over because she needed to speak to him. Now that felt like a reasonable thing to do.

Still waiting for him to pick up, however, her mind was once again filled with doubts, the main trigger for that being the term "life-changing" she had just used.  
Everything she had plotted out for her future so far, she was no longer willing to put on hold or give up on altogether.  
And, matter of fact, Dan wasn't a part of her plans.  
Would he be willing to leave the rat's nest that Brooklyn was to her in order to move to some random small town he might have never heard of to raise a child with her?  
How would this work out anyway if they weren't even dating? They could hardly just move into a house together now, could they?  
Not to mention he probably wouldn't do it because he wanted to. He'd do it because he'd feel guilty if he didn't. He'd do it because he'd feel bad for her, just like he did when Georgina turned up at his doorstep years ago.

No, she wouldn't be a Georgina. Blair Waldorf would never be Georgina Sparks.  
She was stronger than that, far more well-mannered and God knew classier.  
She would do this on her own, fiercely independent as she was.  
She didn't need anyone to give her shelter or look after her baby, let alone a Brooklyn-based writer with horrible taste in both fashion and music.  
Genetically, her baby might also be a Humphrey but it would strictly be raised as a Waldorf.

Not even sure if she had finally heard a voice on the other line - perhaps the call had simply gone to voicemail - she hung up and tossed her phone onto her pillow.  
This chapter was closed for her.  
Now all that was left to do was facing the demon her mother might turn into upon hearing the news.

* * *

"Mother, can I speak to you for a minute?"  
After dinner, Blair had finally mustered the courage to inform Eleanor though she had failed to come up with a speech she was actually content with.

"Sure, Blair." Eleanor raised an eyebrow, seemingly convinced this would be about Chuck. "What about?"

Taking a deep breath, Blair decided she would simply blurt it out. The dim light in the living room somehow made her feel comfortable enough to simply risk it.

But before she could say anything, Eleanor was at it again: "Isn't Chuck coming back soon?"

"Tomorrow, actually." She had the hardest time not rolling her eyes. "And we're also getting the marriage annulled tomorrow."

Eleanor's frown couldn't be overlooked. "I take it you haven't come to your senses then?"

"No, mother, I have come to my senses long ago." Blair scoffed. "I'm getting the marriage annulled tomorrow and the next day, I'm moving to Cabot Cove."

"To _what?_" Eleanor looked as if she was close to a heart attack. "Blair, what on earth has happened to you? Where is all this coming from? I feel like I don't even know you anymore. You are _not_ moving _anywhere._"

"Yes, I am." Blair protested firmly. "I'm an adult, I can move wherever I want and I choose Cabot Cove, Maine. Everything is already arranged."

"Blair, listen to me-"

"No, _you_ listen to me for just a second." The younger Waldorf sighed in exhaustion. "I'm pregnant. And I do not want my child to grow up here."

That revelation even shut her mother up for a moment.

"Blair, you-" Frowning, Eleanor finally employed a softer tone. "Are you sure about all of this?"

"I am." She nodded. "I considered moving to France for a while but I want to start from scratch. In a peaceful little small town where no one's going to bother us."

"What about the label?" Eleanor signed. "You realise you were supposed to take over, don't you?"

"Yes." Biting her lip, the young woman nodded quietly. "Maybe I can once she is a little older. For now, I'd like to have a small boutique after I had the baby. We could sell some of your designs." She mused, not even realising that she had decided to stop calling her baby an 'it'.

Eleanor, however, had noticed and was now raising a curious eyebrow. "How far are you?"

"Roughly a month." She shrugged, gaining a knowing nod from her mother.

"And you're sure you want to disappear that early? I mean, you know what it's like, there's always the possibility that-"

Blair cut her off, not wanting to dwell on another painful memory. "Then I can always come back, right?"

Eleanor's reply was accompanied with a small smile. "Anytime."


	14. two fathers on 34th street

_a/n: hello there, loves! I am so terribly sorry for the awfully long delay! June's been an incredibly busy month for me. I had a death in the family, got my test results, promptly came down with the flu upon realising I had just managed to graduated (and I simply lack the capacity to write a decent chapter when I'm that ill and thus lost nearly two weeks of writing time), officially graduated with a big ceremony and stuff and was forced to look after a still recovering family member post-surgery in the deathly summer heat. But, alas, here it finally is - and I'm even more sorry to say that this chapter really isn't a jewel. It's not very long but a beast to write because I suppose I didn't have it plotted out enough to actually develop it nicely in a timely manner so I'm just hoping this won't be too much of a letdown. In more positive news, I do have the upcoming two chapters plotted out rather well as opposed to this one and I can assure you that the next chapter will definitely drive the plot forward and be of far better quality. Some of you did point out that Dair are moving painstakingly slowly but of course they can't make major hops now or getting Dan this cabin would have been useless waste of time. But don't worry, it won't take ages anymore. We're getting closer one chapter at a time I guess, ahah.  
Either way, here's to the not-so-brilliant but also necessary chapter. Feel free to look forward to the next one, seriously. It'll be good.  
As per usual, a huge thank you to all the reviewers, followers, favouriters (? xD) and, generally, all readers of this. Your faithfulness and dedication gives me hope.  
Guest Stars in order of appearance: Vanessa Abrams, Rufus Humphrey and Lily van der Woodsen (whatever her actual last name is nowadays, I lost track) xoxo_

* * *

Once again, the lock clicked and the door belonging to the not very dearly beloved Brooklyn apartment inhabited by Dan Humphrey sprang open, offering a view of quiet abandonment. Not much time had passed since he had last spent a day here but it had been enough for the rooms to have acquired a generous pinch of dust that appeared to be yearning for a nice dose of spring cleaning.  
But all Dan could think of was how little he'd miss this place - and what the hell he'd do with all this furniture.  
The cabin he had officially rented by now just so happened to be fully furnished and he didn't mind that one bit, in fact being rather fond of the interior design in its entirety. As he let his gaze roam through his former home, he had to realise more and more that there was not a single thing he really wanted to cling onto other than the contents of the shelves and closet.  
Somehow, even after all this years, he had failed to develop an actual sense of attachment to this place. The only things he'd miss were in his old room in the loft and those would remain even after he had left Brooklyn.

Alas, where should he start? Looking back, this place had been far too generously sized for him alone anyway.  
Over the years, far too much clutter had been spread in just about every room and frankly, most of it might just belonged in the trash.  
Undeniably, the first step had to be getting moving boxes.  
Luckily, he knew very well where he had left the ones he had used for originally moving here but they probably wouldn't be enough.  
However, they would be a start. Now all that was left to do was pick a room.  
The living room it should be. Presumably the hardest one, therefore best once gotten out of the way.  
Thinking back, at least half of these boxes must have inhabited books.  
They'd be a treat to get downstairs. Good thing they'd be easier to get into the cabin.

Slowly starting to empty the shelves book by book in order to keep them sorted inside the boxes, he once more tried to find the right words he would direct at his father later in the day.  
So far, the plan consisted of him heading to the loft to collect some more stuff he absolutely couldn't live without and then he thought he'd simply drop the news.  
First the moving part, then the reason why. How or when he would throw the identity of the mother into the mix remained a mystery to him at this point.  
The smallest part of him was still eager to opt for the easiest solution which had to be not telling Rufus at all this time around - but since he had to promise Cynthia she would get to meet her granddad the next time he'd be headed to the city, that certainly wasn't an option.

What was he afraid of anyway?  
After all, this wasn't exactly his first time doing this - but perhaps that was the problem.  
Once again bringing up a child of whose existence he hadn't been aware of, this time around one that was even far older than Milo had been made him look like a proper failure.  
At least this time, it really was his child. Maybe that would score him much needed bonus points.

The familiar chime of his phone which intended to alert him of a newly arrived text distracted him from his worries.  
Back in Cabot Cove, he had of course had to stay in touch with Vanessa since the woman was far too curious about how things were working out for him in Maine - and the fact that she had managed to sound sincere when she assured him that she was sorry that he and Blair weren't going to hit it off as a couple had pleasantly surprised him. Looked like she had gained some acting skills in LA by now and he surely appreciated them being put to good use.  
Matter of fact, Vanessa had a little too much time on her hands these days and had promptly decided to stay in NYC for a while - thus, she was now eagerly offering her help. God knew he could use it.

* * *

"Just how much useless crap have you acquired over the years?" Vanessa groaned, currently tapping the third box she had filled with nothing but books shut.

"First of all, it's neither crap nor useless," Dan was quick to correct her, "and secondly, I've already had most of that before I moved out."

"Then explain to me how you managed to fit all of that into a single room but now require three for the same stuff?" Rolling her eyes, the brunette scoffed at him as she once again found him slacking and checking his phone for the time. "Is your newly rediscovered New England girlfriend texting you again?" The teasing edge to her voice was instantly scolded with one of the bitterest looks.

"She's not my girlfriend and you know that very well." He noted dryly. "No texting either. I'm just contemplating if it's smarter to tell someone he's a granddad once and for all around lunch or dinner time."

"Opt for the earliest option so you can stop getting on my nerves once and for all. I'd say, _now._" She chirped innocently in response, raising an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're scared."

"No, scared is not the right word." He shook his head, then took a moment to seemingly drift off in search of the right one. "I'd say nervous, anxious or even on the brink of a panic attack are, by far, more fitting."

"Really now?" At first, Vanessa didn't seem all too convinced but closely studying the look on his face made her realise that he wasn't joking as much as he wanted to. "Dan, there's absolutely no reason for you to be scared. Have you forgotten who your dad is?"

"Matter of fact, I haven't." Now struggling not to snicker, the addressed ran his fingers through his hair. "And I know where you're coming from; I shouldn't even be _nervous_ about this because this isn't the first time I drop such a bomb on him, now is it? But it just- it feels different." He found himself realising.  
"It feels entirely different. Which is just the strangest thing because, I mean… granted, it's an entirely different situation I'm in. A far more convenient situation if I may say so myself." Continuing to ramble, he absentmindedly sat down on the edge of the cluttered couch.  
"I have my life in order – at least far enough to not be depending on him, I'm at a more mature age that could be considered suitable for parenthood but," sighing quietly, he finally let the cat out of the bag, "it's been four years. Four years of oblivion. What kind of father doesn't even once get the idea that he might have a child for four entire years?"

Shrugging nonchalantly, Vanessa was sure she already had the perfect response to this.  
"The kind of father who knocked up Blair Waldorf on the day of her wedding to another man." She couldn't help but grin, playfully punching his side to finally gain somewhat of a grin from his side as well. "Look, we're talking about Blair here and you know very well what she's like. She didn't want you to know and thus you didn't. If anything, you should be proud of yourself for making her fess up or you might have been blessed with at least another four years of oblivion."

After initial hesitation, Dan gave in: "Fine. You win."

"I didn't expect anything else." Vanessa grinned, seated beside him and holding her hand out. "Now tell me what you plan on saying and show me photos of your kid already. It's about time."

Chuckling, Dan obediently unlocked his phone.  
"You might as well admit that you just want to sneakily read my texts to double check if I really don't have a newly rediscovered New England girlfriend." He teased, earning himself a look filled with judgement.

Neither of them dwelled on the topic he had been joking about for too long and once he had found the photo he wanted to show her first, he began to elaborate his minimalistic plan prior to even handing the phone over.

"First of all, I thought I'd simply walk in and pack up the stuff I still need."

When Vanessa spoke again, it appeared as if she hadn't even heard him.  
"Okay no, that's impossible. That's just you in a dress, Dan, admit it. Your parents must have done some messed up stuff to you."

Rolling his eyes, the addressed leaned closer and pointed out a distinctive feature. "No, look closely. She has Blair's nose."

Squinting, the brunette held the screen further away from her face.

"Maybe. It's a little hard to tell on there. Plus I haven't seen a Waldorf nose in quite a while." She frowned. "I'll believe it when I see you two next to each other."

And with one quick swipe to the left, she did.

"Wow... Okay but you have to admit that resemblance is nearly creepy." She continued to protest.

"I know." Dan nodded (only in slight annoyance). "Now can we please get back on track here?"

"Right. Simply walking in and packing up your stuff." The brunette resumed scrolling through the photos, occasionally displaying a rather obvious look of awe whenever she stumbled upon a particularly cute shot. "That does sound a bit harsh, Daniel."

"It would be harsh if I wasn't going to explain myself." He was quick to correct her. "But this way, I'll simply ease him into the news. From moving to the destination to the reason why. See?"

"I see." Vanessa confirmed. "And what about the identity of the mother?" She inquired curiously with a raised brow.

Dan's shrug in response failed to hide a hint of helplessness. "That will be the tip of the iceberg. If that one melts as well will depend on how he takes the rest of the news."

Once more, his friend nodded in understanding. "Do it like that. Just go for it. But I really wouldn't keep the mother a secret if I were you. That'll lead to speculation and speculation never ends well. You do have Blair's permission to kiss and tell, don't you?"

"I do." He confirmed. "But to no one but him."

"Makes sense." Vanessa concluded, knitting her brows when she reached a photo of Blair and Cynthia. "Maybe it's just that photo but honestly - if you asked me, I'd say Blair looks at least 90% happier now than she ever did here."

"It probably sounds weird to most people who used to know her but I think she really is." Taking another moment to collect himself, Dan reached for his phone again. "Well, I shouldn't procrastinate this any longer." He announced as he stood. "I won't be long. Or I hope I won't be."

"You won't be." Vanessa declared with determination. "Should I be at risk of doing all of this work myself, you can be assured I'll get in touch with you."

* * *

Standing outside the loft he had grown up in, Dan Humphrey could be spotted scratching his head, contemplating a minor detail he had forgotten in his earlier plots - how his big entrance would begin.  
Should he ring the bell? Maybe knock? Or simply unlock the door and storm in as if he was still living here?  
The latter option was what his instincts told him to opt for.  
Come to think of it, he had neglected to contact his father prior to coming her so who knew if he was even home? Yeah, he'd just walk right in. Alright then.

Taking a final deep breath, he opened the door only to see that Rufus was indeed home - and in company.  
Seated on the couch beside him was none other than Lily.  
Of all people. At least he hadn't walked in on them in a compromising situation.

"Well, hello there, son." Rufus exclaimed in surprise, seemingly undecided whether he should get up or remain seated and therefore awkwardly crouching above the couch. "Are we feeling a little nostalgic today or why are you using your old key?"

"Hello to you, too, dad." Dan threw him a weary look. "And to you, of course." He then addressed Lily, tempted to knit his brows.  
Rufus's and Lily's relationship status never seemed to be quite clear – in fact, Dan could swear that they had reunited at least 7 times within the last five years but he was also sure that he had managed to miss a few times since they tended to be so fast to call it quits yet again.  
This time, however, it did seem a lot like they were just getting together as old friends who were catching up on each other's lives – but who ever really knew with them?

"Daniel, it's lovely to see you again after all this time." Lily chirped nearly too enthusiastically for his liking. He really hadn't seen any of the Van der Woodsen clan a lot as of recent - and, certainly, no one but Serena - and he would be lying if he was to claim he missed being in touch with any of them.  
Before he even had time to return a polite white lie, the woman had already reminded him of the reason why that was the case.  
"I've heard you've quit The Times?

"So I've heard." Rufus dryly chimed in. "From her. How come, Dan? Is that even true?"

"It is." The youngest in the room nodded slowly. "The main reason I quit is also why I'm here actually."  
Holding up the still folded moving box he had been holding behind his back, he mustered an awkward smile. "I'm moving and thought I ought to double check if I don't want to bring anything I've been keeping here so if you'd excuse me."

Not awaiting another reply, he made his way to his old room. One thing was for sure: Lily's presence had completely messed up his plan. Even worse was the fact that he had dropped the truth bomb of moving away anyway and would now be unable to explain why he was doing so.  
The time had come to think of an excuse as to why one would ditch New York to move to a small town called Cabot Cove in the depths of Maine – there was no reasonable one that could possibly come even remotely close to sounding like something he would do.

Scanning through the room, he had soon realised that bringing an entire box had been an unnecessity – there were roughly four things he might like to have nearby which promptly landed in the fairly oversized cardboard construction.

He couldn't have asked for more undisturbed time to pack anyway as Rufus was dumbfounded enough to follow him. "Hold on - you're moving? When and where to that you even find it necessary to raid your old room?" He asked in confusion, standing in the doorway with crossed arms.

"Now and I'm leaving the state." Dan stated matter-of-factly, much as if announcing that on such short notice was the most natural thing in the world. "I'm not moving all that far away, though. Just up to Maine."

Shrugging nonchalantly, he walked past his father and back to the living room in a desperate attempt to simply dash without further explanation.  
Obviously, he couldn't spill the entire truth in Lily's company or Blair would behead him the second he got back but even dropping hints would probably lead to just that, knowing Rufus.  
And as expected, the latter wasn't making a quick exit all that easy, already catching up with him again.

"And why exactly are you doing that? You can't seriously have a shot at a better job there. Nothing beats the Times."

"The New Yorker beats the Times." Dan muttered with a hint of grumpiness in his tone. He might have accepted that some dreams just weren't meant to become reality but getting over that fact was a whole different story nonetheless. "But it's not because of work. I have my reasons. Personal reasons."

Now if that wasn't enough of a hint that he was not up for talking about this as long as they weren't alone, he didn't know what was.  
Apparently, though, his message had not been delivered perfectly clearly.  
Either that or Rufus had gotten so caught up in trying to solve this mysterious riddle that he had completely forgotten about Lily's presence who, granted, was keeping a very low profile during the family's exchange.

"Oh, _personal_ reasons. So _personal_ that you can't even let your father in on them?"

Certainly too personal to let him in on them in the company of a not so foreign stranger.  
God, he wanted to get out of here. In fact, he needed to.  
If only he could vanish into thin air under Rufus's judging gaze.  
But no matter how hard he tried, he simply wouldn't vaporise into flickering atoms.

"I'd like to be closer to the family I have there." He finally found himself admitting, gaining himself a look of utter bewilderment.  
Naturally, there were no Humphreys in Maine. None who officially went by that name or of whose existence Rufus was aware of. "Such as your granddaughter."

The look of utter bewilderment increased in surprise, perhaps it could even be labelled as shock.

"My what?" Rufus stuttered in confusion, exchanging a glance of uncertainty with Lily who looked equally confused but tried her best to keep her posture.

"I know it comes unexpected." His son mumbled meekly. "But yeah, uh, I have a daughter in Maine so..."

"Are you sure?" With knit brows, Rufus inquired further. "Or is that another child you allegedly have with Georgina?"

"Wow, thanks for believing in the fact that I've at least slightly matured by now, dad." Dan couldn't help but roll his eyes, crossing his arms in front of his chest.  
"No, it's not Georgina's. Believe it or not, even I occasionally learn my lesson. And if you insist, I can easily show you a paternity test if you pay me a visit sometime."

That seemed to be enough to at least temporarily shut his father up but of course he could not rest his case just yet.

"Well, who-"

And there it was. The chime that saved Dan Humphrey from getting murdered by Blair Waldorf the following day.  
With delight, he motioned Rufus to hold that thought and checked his phone, a triumphant grin grazing his lips as he looked back up to face his father.

"Well, I'm afraid I have to get going. Vanessa's helping me pack and she's not very happy with me in this instant."  
Bless Vanessa for serving as the perfect excuse, nearly as if she had read his mind.  
"I'll talk to you later, okay?" He hurried to brush of possible further protest, already moving closer to the front door, step by quick step. "Lily, seeing you again was a pleasure."

"The pleasure was all mine, Daniel." Shooting him a polite smile, the blonde's eyes soon wandered over to Rufus who appeared to be wordlessly protesting until his son had opened the door, making it clear that he was actually going to leave without supplying further explanation.

"Hold on, Dan, I'm not letting you just-"

The sound of the door closing behind him muffled his father's authoritative protest. He'd deal with him later. And, most importantly, in private.

* * *

Vanessa's complaints really must have been heaven sent seeing as they were - at least according to Dan - completely unfounded.  
Risking a glance at his movie as well as his vinyl collection had resulted in her refusal to pack up any of that on her own and quite frankly, he had never been more glad to spend his time carefully filling cardboard boxes with fragile vintage records.

Nearly all of the boxes had already been taped shut once a knock on the apartment door could be heard - first hesitant, then determined.  
Exchanging a knowing glance with his eager helper, Dan sighed heavily, very well aware of the unannounced visitor's identity.

"Do you have a minute?" Rufus asked calmly in greeting. "I was thinking we could go on a stroll through the city. Remind you of what you're going to be missing in Maine."

Glancing across his shoulder to ensure Vanessa was willingly motioning him to go, he mustered a small smile: "A minute should work."

* * *

The destinations Rufus had picked out for them spanned a typical route for tourists, thus indeed stressing New York's most obvious perks but seemingly not being an earnest try to convince Dan to rethink his decision.  
Apparently, his father had already managed to come to terms with the moving part of his breaking news - the more shocking part of them was, on the other hand, a topic they awkwardly danced around during their stroll through Central Park.

Back on the streets of Manhattan, however, Rufus could no longer contain himself.

"So," clearing his throat, he glanced at his son from the corner of his eyes, "my granddaughter, huh?"

"Yeah, that's-" The smallest fit of awkward chuckling interrupted his word flow. "That's a thing now although I might have made it sound like I was playing a rather petty joke on you.".

Rufus immediately nodded. "Way to break the news, son." He added with a playful hint of scolding in his tone.

"I know, I know. And I'm sorry for my capricious little show earlier." Rolling his eyes, Dan cleared his throat. "But you completely messed up my plan by being in company." He threw his father a look of faux-judgement. "Otherwise, the original plan would have worked out perfectly - and let me tell you, that one was flawless to say the least."  
The fact that this was a heavily exaggerated lie was so easy to see through that his father flashed him a humongous grin.

"My sincerest apologies." He snorted sarcastically, raising an eyebrow in expectation. "So? Am I finally getting any details or will I have to beg for them to make up for my wrongdoings?"

"Now that's an idea." Dan dared to joke but returned to a more serious state of mind almost immediately. "Where do you want me to start?"

"I guess the basic data would help me immensely." Rufus shrugged innocently. "You know, such as name, age, identity of the mother. Nothing big. Just the usual."

"Sure. The usual." Dan nodded in confirmation, biting his lip before he shyly spoke up again. "But first you ought to promise me you won't judge me."

Rufus's gaze oozed amusement but he still tried to keep a straight face. "I'll promise you that I won't judge you any more than I already am ever since you turned up at my place today. Is that acceptable?"

"I suppose that'll have to do." Taking a deep breath, he tried to recollect the order that had been requested by his father. "Alright then; her name is Cynthia, she's four and- Okay, stop giving me that look." He interrupted himself, glaring at Rufus who defensively put up his hands.

"I'm not giving you any look, son." He was instantly protesting.

"Yes, you are. That's your what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-you-look. I may not have been on the receiving end of it all that often but I've still seen it enough to know what it looks like."

"Well, four years are a long time, Dan." His father caved in.

"Well, I was unaware of her existence. My love life and parental relations aren't perfectly in order like yours." Unable to refrain from slightly teasing Rufus, he shrugged innocently, gaining a muffled chuckle from his victim.

"Don't make this about me now." He scolded him, not lacking sarcasm. "This time, we're addressing your delinquencies, not mine."

Rolling his eyes, Dan gave in. "Still. No further judgement, as promised." Waiting for his father to nod, he continued.  
"Alright, so she's four and I still wasn't aware of her existence around this time last month. Frankly, had I not tracked down her mother, whom you know, by the way, for an article I was supposed to write, she might have never told me so I do not deserve the look."

Rufus's ears had ostensibly perked up at the hint at the mother's identity, efficiently replacing his what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-you-look with one of unstained curiosity, perhaps even signalling that his mind was hard at work in case Dan once again decided to act up and refuse to answer any more questions.  
However, his son appeared to have given up on secrecy for good (not to the reader's surprise since he had been determined to spill the full truth all along and only became so reluctant upon facing several unexpected obstacles).

"You also can't tell anyone." Dan finally remembered to clarify. "Seriously no one. This will have to stay between you and me, me and you, _no one else whatsoever_."

In response, his father's look changed to questioning but he willingly promised, too anxious to mess up a reveal if he hadn't.

"Alright." Taking a deep breath, Dan was finally ready. Or at least he told himself he was. Alas, even if he wasn't, there was no way back again.  
"Cynthia's full name is Cynthia Jennifer Waldorf." He had failed to say the name in its entirety in one breath, thus making an involuntary dramatic pause before adding 'Waldorf', caused by a mild fit of anxiety.

The silence that now emerged between father and son barely lasted half a minute but it felt like an eternity to both of them.  
Chewing on his lip, Dan decided to wait for his father to break the silence - which he promptly did, having recovered from yet another wave of initial shock.

"So... It's Blair?" Rufus was sure to double check, immediately receiving an affirmative nod.

"It's Blair." He repeated meekly, suddenly not at all feeling like he was in, or at least close to, his late twenties but more as if he was only in his early teens.  
Why was he feeling the same sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach he used to feel when he knew he was about to get lectured for his wrongdoings?  
It wasn't as if he had done anything wrong. And even if he had - morally, he might not have chosen the right path that night - who was Rufus to judge him?  
He was an adult and capable of making his own decisions - or so one could think.

Whatsoever, his dreadful worries turned out to be completely unfounded - alas, who would have thought? Rufus found himself to be far more fascinated with a rather minor detail compared to Blair's maternity.

"Blair Waldorf named her daughter after Jenny?" He asked in disbelief, completely unable to imagine that ever happening, not even in a parallel universe.

"I suppose that was her trying to honour her paternal lineage to a certain extent." Running his fingers through his curls, he chuckled quietly. "It's a sweet gesture, dad. Just take it for what it is."

"I haven't said a word." Rufus laughed, perking up his brows. "Does Jenny know about that honour then?"

"No," Dan's sigh was nearly inaudible but it was released nonetheless. "And I'd appreciate it greatly if it could stay that way until I'm ready to let her in on it."

Thankfully, his father did not at all put up a fight, knowing that breaking the news to the younger Humphrey sibling wouldn't be a piece of cake if you did it without wisely planning the reveal beforehand.  
Instead, he asked to see photographic proof of his granddaughter's existence and remained relatively silent as they walked down 34th Street, too in awe with the images he got to lay his eyes on.

There was only one more thing that irked him about the secrecy he had sworn to indulge in for the time being - what was he supposed to tell Lily?

"Definitely not the truth." Dan nearly shouted in panic. "I don't know, _something. Nothing._ Tell her she wouldn't know her. Just some girl from Maine I randomly met. Or say I didn't tell you who it was. I'll leave that up to you."

"I'll think of something." Rufus assured him, finally returning his phone. "So when do I get to meet my granddaughter?"

Dan's first instinct was to say nothing but "soon" which he promptly did although he still wasn't quite sure how the plan he had made with his daughter, casually neglecting her mother's consent, would be doable without bringing eternal wrath over himself.  
"Cynthia has never been to Brooklyn before and is therefore ecstatic to go so I was thinking we'd visit you once I'm all settled and off work again. Bring Blair along to remind her just how much she _loves_ Brooklyn." He couldn't resist a smirk even now that he was just imagining her reaction. Neither could Rufus.

"Sounds good to me, son." He smiled, patting his back. "Then let me get her a present for now." Motioning to Macy's which they had coincidentally just happened to reach, he turned back to face Dan. "What does she like?"

"Barbies, pink, plaid, post-modern feminism-" Dan's innocent list was put on hold by its creator upon noticing his father weary expression. "No worries, dad. We'll find something she'll like. I know her well enough by now."


	15. fires, delicately lit on arrival

_a/n: alas, my dear readers, I return at last! So sorry it took me so long to update yet again, unlike the past months when I first got started with this story. It's really not due to a lack of muse, more of the opposite, but apparently I've miscalculated how much time I'd have to write. I don't really have anything concrete I am forced to do until uni starts in October but for some reason that lack of plan and routine seems to make it harder for me to write regularly because I get to be a lot more spontaneous if that makes sense? Maybe that means I'll finish a chapter a week again come October, ahah. We're also experiencing a record heat wave where I live, with the highest temperatures my country has ever recorded since they keep track of that so most of the time, we're all just sweaty zombies longing to die for good and my laptop &amp; even my phone are overheating everything including themselves.  
But hey, at least I get to present a long one to you this time around to somewhat make up for the wait - and even better, it's actually getting us somewhere! Obviously, we can't rush things completely or this whole getting Dan a place to stay ordeal would have been for nothing but the pace is picking up for sure (I seem to recall some of you saying Dair were moving painfully slow back in the day and I agree but you know how difficult Blair can be when she's made up her mind). There's still a way to go but we're getting there, there's no way back.  
Alright then, I hope I still have some readers out there because you were all dope and I'll be eternally grateful for you and absolutely loved hearing from you, as you all probably know by now (barf, too much sentimentality right here) I hope you'll enjoying reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it (maybe it just took me ages because I had a little too much fun, who knows?)_

_Special Guest Star: Vanessa Abrams xoxo_

* * *

"And you're sure he's coming back today?"  
On this beautiful morning in Cabot Cove, Cynthia appeared to have nothing better to do than bother her mother with the same question concerning her father's return time and time again. Granted, she did care to rephrase it ever so often which greatly decreased Blair's average amount of annoyance in such a scenario.

"C, if he wasn't, he wouldn't have told me that he was last night. If he wasn't, I wouldn't have left the boutique closed for today. Where is all this distrust coming from anyway?" She asked in honest confusion.  
"You haven't been let down so far so save it for when you're older and left to realise that no one's reliable whatsoever but you yourself."

The small girl nodded obediently, deciding to finally let that part of the topic rest. Instead, she began to worry about life's far more important issues.

"Do you think he'll have a present for me?" Her euphoric, yet innocent excitement about the prospect of receiving a gift made Blair's brows perk up.

"When did you become so materialistic, sweetie?" She struggled not to giggle. "I don't know, maybe. Is that really so important? Because it shouldn't be."

"Grandma always brings me something." Cynthia retorted, shrugging nonchalantly.

"That's because she wants to buy your love." Blair snorted sarcastically.  
"You'll grasp that concept once you're older. For now, just remember that presents are, of course, a nice thing to receive but they're not what the world revolves around. Getting something from a person you don't like all that much won't ever make you as happy as being reunited with someone you missed dearly who neglected to bring you anything."

Even Blair herself was surprised by that sudden outburst of wisdom of hers.  
It had not gone past her that her former heavily materialistic way of thinking had undergone a considerable transformation but up until now, she had failed to voice her newly gained opinion.  
God, she sounded as if she had jumped out of the dumpster that was Brooklyn, didn't she?  
Humphrey's mere presence must have rubbed off on her too much already; possibly irrevocably.

Oh well, it could be worse.  
At least those were perfectly acceptable views, despite of being uncommon for someone who had been raised where and the way she had been.  
As long as this didn't go further downhill, she would survive.

* * *

Still on the road, Dan Humphrey, on the other hand, wasn't at all sure if he was going to survive this day - mostly due to the fact that he wasn't coming back to town alone. Seated beside him on the passenger seat of his Mustang was Vanessa Abrams who had ostensibly been far harder to convince that he really didn't need company on this trip than Rufus.  
In fact, he had completely failed to convince her.  
The night before, after they had finally stuffed everything in the car (successfully so since he cared even less for most of his belongings than he had believed himself to), his old friend had declared rather casually that she was joining him by asking when they would be leaving the next day.  
Dan's protest was about as effective as putting a bandaid on a broken bone, only leading to Vanessa informing him rather harshly that she would not miss out on this opportunity to meet his daughter.  
Who knew when the next one would arise, even more so since the plan she had been working on without his consent ever since she had slipped the first of his books into a moving box included her leaving for California directly from Maine.

"I still think this is a terrible idea." By now having entered Maine, Dan threw a spiteful glance of annoyance at his unwanted passenger from the corner of his eyes.

"And guess what? I _still_ don't care." Grinning at him, Vanessa tossed her hair back, allowing the maritime breeze to blow through it and make it dance.  
Unlike Blair, she was a big fan of the Mustang, especially when the weather allowed it to be driven in its convertible state.  
"No matter how much you're going to try and argue, you can't convince me. I think everything's going to work out fabulously. If all goes according to plan, I'll get on well with the little one immediately and this new and improved version of Blair Waldorf might not be ecstatic to see me but she won't rip our heads off either because she has turned into a tolerable human being. Or did you exaggerate there a little, Daniel?"

"Vanessa, please, when do I _ever_ exaggerate?" Keeping his eyes fixed on the road, he tried hard to muster more of a playful tone but it wasn't coming easily.  
Warning Blair to some extent might ease his worries. If he at least hinted at having company, she couldn't behead him, could she? It would be worth a try.  
"Now if you'd please be kind enough to focus on your task of looking out for the nearest gas station, that would be a treat."

Successfully holding back a snotty remark, the woman lazily rolled her eyes. "The next one's two miles from here. Just don't miss the exit."

It goes without saying that he didn't. There was no chance in hell that he would have missed out on an opportunity to get out of the car and consequently a minute away from his overbearing friend.

Baffled by the fact that this gas station still cared to employ an attendant, Vanessa had obliviously remained in the car for a few more moments after Dan had decided to stroll far enough away to safely make a call, now left to motion him through the medium of unprofessional sign language that she would go in to see if she could find an acceptable snack or drink and that he ought to not even dare consider leaving without her or she would make him regret it.  
Of course doing just that would have solved all of his current problems in an instant but he knew all too well that he wouldn't be able to pull through with it.  
Thus, his last resort remained calling Blair and hoping for the best.

Equally satisfied and concerned by the fact that he was calling, she picked up on the second ring.  
Naturally, she had more certainty that he would not experience a precipitous change of heart now that he had officially rented a place in Cabot Cove but she still couldn't keep completely unfounded concerns from crossing her mind every now and again.  
Deep in her heart, she knew exactly how ridiculous she was being but it seemed that there was a distrust so deeply rooted inside of her that she could not just switch this way of thinking off with a snap of her finger.

"Humphrey." Their usual greeting was accompanied by a triumphant, I-told-you-so smile addressed to their daughter he couldn't see but quite possibly hear in her tone. "You better be on your way already."

"I am, Waldorf. Matter of fact, I'm already in the state." Catching a glimpse of Vanessa through the gas station's windows, he was quick to drop the somewhat goofy smile he feared had been grazing his lips ever since he had heard a voice on the other line. He ought to snap out of that mindset before they reached their actual destination.  
"It shouldn't take much longer than an hour anymore. Two hours tops."

"Good, then we'll be at the cabin in one and a half. Since your daughter is so longingly awaiting your return." She teased, making Cynthia pout from slight embarrassment.

"Oh yeah?" Now he really couldn't fight the goofy smile anymore, regardless of Vanessa's return. "Well, feel free to tell her that I missed her."  
_And you_, he only mentally added, mostly due to the pair of ears now also listening to every word he was saying.

"I will." Blair replied softly, briefly mouthing to Cynthia who immediately seemed to get the message and thus lit up considerably.  
"How did things go with Rufus, by the way? You weren't exactly talkative when we texted."

"Yeah, I'm sorry, that had nothing to do with that." Dan mumbled apologetically.  
Nothing with Rufus and everything with Vanessa who was daintily sipping freshly purchased ice tea but appeared to be locked and ready to interrupt their exchange.  
"He took it very well, actually. Although my methods of delivering the message might have been a bit flawed."  
The fact that Lily had also heard parts of his reveal was something he would mention another time. When he was out of the danger zone.

"Can we get going already?" His companion raised an eyebrow but had thankfully not spoken loud enough to actually disrupt the conversation. However, she animated Dan to hurry up and get to the important parts of the call already.

"But whatsoever, I'm afraid I have a bit of a surprise for you. I'm not coming alone." Out of instinct, he squeezed his eyes shut once he fully admitted to his wrongdoings.

"Oh. Well. Alright then." Blair stuttered, her brows knit. "Be honest: Is it someone I hate?"

"Hate is a strong word, don't you think?" Chuckling nervously, he motioned Vanessa to get in the car already. "I promise it won't be all that bad. But please, be nice."

"When am I _not_ nice?" Rolling her eyes, Blair bit her lip for a second before she continued: "Now get back on the road already or you'll be late which is very unbecoming on you, Mister Overly-Punctual."

"Alright, alright." Shaking his head, Dan refrained from commenting on her average niceness. "I'll see you in a bit, Waldorf."

"See you in a bit, Humphrey." Hanging up, Blair's brows narrowed as she fixed her gaze on an invisible spot on the table top.  
In spite of the muffled tone, she had managed to recognise a female voice in the background which could mean exactly two, maybe three things although she was sure she would have fully recognised the second option: Dan was either bringing Vanessa, or worse, Serena, or even worse, Jenny.  
All she could think was _please, Lord, should you exist, don't let it be Jenny._

* * *

Blair's silver Prius had been parked on the side of the road beside Dan's cabin for seven minutes already before his blue Mustang pulled into the driveway.  
Much to her relief, it wasn't Jenny who was occupying the passenger seat.  
Instead, Vanessa flashed her a presumably not fully earnest smile while getting out of the car.  
For the time being, Blair chose to remain silent but slowly got up from the bench outside the cabin her daughter and she had been seated on, a polite smile plastered on her face.

Before she was left to deal with the uninvited guest, Dan abandoned the stuffed vehicle and made his way over, his hands shoved in his pockets, offering her one of his typical, apologetic smiles.  
As she fixed her eyes on him, he rapidly mouthed a mute "I'm sorry" which seemed to be met with a look of indifferent acceptance.  
Considering it could be far, far worse, Blair wasn't capable of holding a grudge against him for this nevertheless less than pleasant surprise.

"You're late, Humphrey." She greeted him in the usual fashion of cool sarcasm that always made him grin like a school boy who had managed to do something forbidden without getting caught.

"Barely, Waldorf."

Vanessa shot them a funny look as they embraced like the old friends they were but knew that making a comment now was uncalled for.

Cynthia had been quick to follow her mother and would be impatiently waiting to get her father's attention if she didn't consider the fact that they hugged in greeting an improvement that could only work out in her favour.  
Regardless, she did get mildly fed up with waiting and thus was pleased to see them disengaging, immediately taking the chance to jump into her father's arms who had automatically leaned down to let her do just that.

Momentarily, Vanessa's gaze followed the small girl's movements who was now giggling in delight as she found herself being lifted off the ground, her smile gaining honesty. As strange as it was to see Dan with his daughter live and in colour for the first time ever, she had expected it to feel a lot more out of place.  
He really did have a natural talent for fatherhood she considered admirable.

Feeling Blair's gaze shift and fall onto her, she also tore her eyes from the scene and instead looked the woman in front of her up and down.  
Not all that much had changed about her physical appearance but even the bitterness in the look she was currently throwing her was nothing compared to the bitterness Blair Waldorf managed to convey in a single glance back in her Queen Bee days.

Even though she was glad to only be facing Vanessa, Blair simply couldn't refrain from passively stressing the fact that she had not been invited - but, alas, she'd have to accept this situation the way it was, just like she had so many times before.  
Reminding herself of the skills of a good hostess, a role she felt forced to take on since Dan did not seem to bother with it in the least, her icy smile warmed up to a certain extent as she took a step closer to the darker skinned brunette.

"Vanessa, what a... _pleasant_ surprise."

"Well, Blair, I just_ knew_ you'd _love_ to see me again." Vanessa couldn't quite cut out a teasing edge. "And even more so did I love the prospect of getting to see a version of Blair Waldorf that embraces small town life and single motherhood."

Great. So she was an exposé in a low-class museum in Vanessa's eyes (painting that mental picture made her feel better about herself than opting for the stereotypical zoo comparison). She always knew she had very good reasons to be wary of this woman - reasons she hadn't been fully aware of in the past but her instincts had not misled her.

"Is it really _that_ unbelievable that I'm capable of living a less luxurious life and providing for a child on my own?" Blair found herself scoffing but kept her voice void of the hint of anger that was beginning to boil inside of her - nearly emotionless.

"I suppose it's more the fact that you chose to." Vanessa quipped meekly. "No offence but I used to think you were one of the most shallow people I know. Looks like I was mistaken."

Both women, seemingly in perfect sync, let their eyes stray back to Dan and Cynthia for a moment, witnessing the girl failing at what she had originally intended to do - to stay humble and not ask her father whether he had brought her a present.  
Once Dan had informed her that he had indeed but that her grandpa had picked it and if she didn't like it, they'd just throw it out and give him another shot at a good first impression, Blair spoke up again.

"I guess you just might have been." As she was only now fixing her eyes on Vanessa's again, her statement sounded absentminded. "But on the other hand, I'm not the same person I used to be."

Silence emerged as Vanessa once again scanned every visible inch of Blair - and decided that this wasn't the start or simply yet another part of a scheme of hers but nothing more than a genuine answer.

"Maybe the person you are now and the person I am now could end up getting along a little better than the persons that we used to be?" She suggested, offering the other woman a small encouraging smile.

Blair's eyebrows perked up in response. Pursing her lips, she appeared to be pondering for another moment before she nodded.

"Maybe they could." Extending her right hand, her eyebrow raised again. "How about a clean slate?"

Shaking it, Vanessa willingly agreed. "Clean slate it is."

Blair's expectations for this new beginning of their relationship roughly equalled zero but she'd at least try not to make another enemy.  
Being pretty much enemy-free in this town had shown her the joys of being well-liked without being feared and if this woman was going to get on her nerves by paying more visits to Dan time and time again, she should at least try to be civil with her.

Dan had observed the exchange with doubtful curiosity, setting Cynthia back on her feet who had done the same.  
Being of a sensitive nature, the girl had of course sensed the tension between her mother and her father's friend, thus deciding to be sceptical towards the stranger unless she should prove her wrong.

As the two approached the others, Blair had already acquired her usual UES hostess smile again, determined to take matters into her own hands now since she remained convinced that Dan was incapable of getting anything done today (he had too much of that helpless vibe Tom Hanks exhibited in all his 80's and 90's movies about him at this point)

"So, we best get started, shall we?" She chirped, making it obvious that no wasn't an acceptable answer. "Let's finally get you moved in."

* * *

Getting Dan Humphrey moved in appeared to be easier said than done.  
Blair was still reigning like the indomitable queen she liked to view herself as and none of her so-called suggestions were met with any protest.  
Organised as ever, the feisty brunette insisted that what the cardboard boxes contained was to be assigned a spot in the cabin immediately so that nothing would end up piling up somewhere it didn't belong.  
For once, Dan and she wholeheartedly agreed - to Vanessa's surprise.  
Even though he did have a knack for a tidy place to live, he was never one to fret about a regular cleaning routine or a bit of dust collecting on the shelves but living out of a suitcase for the past weeks had awakened a need for order in him that would be fulfilled by placing things properly from the start.

However, pursuing the relatively simple plan was draining in spite of there not being as much stuff to unpack as the average person moving states would consider their dearest belongings.  
What Dan had packed fell more under the category of overachieving college freshman in fear of never returning home again who had thus slightly overpacked for a dorm room he'd have to share with an eccentric stranger but he appeared to also have been infected with Blair's perfectionism which made things increasingly difficult for everyone involved.  
He neither liked that his beloved flannels were supposed to be hidden away in a dark drawer if Blair had any say in that decision nor did he appreciate Vanessa's efforts to alphabetise his books when he had preferred to differ between decades as well ever since he could remember. The only female in the house who didn't argue with him was his daughter whose mood was dropping anyway.  
Granted, Cynthia managed to look wise beyond her years effortlessly most of the time but when it came down to it, she was still only four and after more or less unpacking two boxes both worn out and fed up.

"I never knew moving house was so boring." Sighing dramatically, the small girl plopped down on the couch, blowing a particularly stubborn curl out of her face. "Are we at least close to being done?"

"We would be a lot closer if your father didn't enjoy picking fights with his friend." Blair's words were muffled, for only the girl to hear as she stepped beside her.  
"Look, C, I told you this wouldn't be much fun but you insisted. Now there's nowhere I could take you instead anymore."  
The Webbers had made a rather generous offer to let Cynthia accompany them on their day trip but the girl had, as Blair had expected, been far too excited about her father's return to be willing to leave town.

"I know but I just didn't think it would be this little fun." Cynthia pouted the kind of pout that warmed her mother's heart in a way that made her fear that she was becoming too soft. The last thing she really wanted to do right now was leave as she would confidently place bets on this moving mission turning into complete mayhem the second she left Dan and Vanessa to carry on on their own but, nonetheless, she felt she had no other choice but to get her daughter out of here to offer her at least a few minutes of amusement.

Caught up in her thoughts, she didn't notice Vanessa entering the room, thoroughly fed up with her friend.  
Of course she always had his back but at times like these she could barely remember why she did.  
She was in need of air, a short stroll around a town that was waiting to be explored by her - and as her determination to take a brief break from all this madness grew, she overheard the exchange between the two Waldorfs.

Before she was even sure what she was going to say, the woman found herself chiming in, mentally praying that this wouldn't be taken the wrong way: "I could use a little break as well."

Two pairs of curious doe eyes locked on her that momentarily made her stomach flutter but the damage had already been done and thus she swiftly continued.  
"I mean, let's be honest, this really is no fun at all. Something like ice cream would make this a lot more bearable so maybe we could go get some?"

While Blair's face remained expressionless for a little while longer, Cynthia's lit up - even if just the smallest bit.

"Ice cream sounds really good." The girl reassured Vanessa with a smile, instantly seeking her mother's approval.

"Sure, that's a good idea and very sweet of you to offer, Vanessa." Somehow, Blair found it hard to believe that the woman would actually want to take her child for ice cream and wasn't just trying to be nice now that she had seen her struggling - or perhaps to even get a kick out of her failure? No, it was probably about time to stop viewing Vanessa as the enemy aiming to work against her.  
"But you don't have to. I could spare a minute as well, I'm sure, so if you'd rather stay and-"

"Oh no, please," Vanessa was quick to protest, "I'd love to go for a bit. And let's be honest, you and Dan make a far better team so far anyway. So as long as someone could show me the way to the best ice cream in town..."

Blessed with a generous nod from her mother's side, Cynthia grinned happily.  
"Oh, I'd find the best ice cream in town in my sleep." She declared, hopping off the couch. "Let's get going, alright?"

Blair still wasn't completely at ease with the idea of letting Vanessa roam through town with Cynthia but the nagging voice inside her head wasn't hard to shut up.  
If Dan trusted this woman so much, she probably should as well.  
Labelling her as an untrustworthy stranger definitely wasn't the right thing to do in this situation - and quite frankly, she wasn't.  
Vanessa and her might not have been very tight back in the day but she had known her long enough to know she wasn't a bad person.

"Have fun, sweetie. Maybe you can show Vanessa around town for a bit?" She thus suggested, offering the latter mentioned an earnest smile.

"Now that would be awesome." The brunette agreed, surprised by Blair's sweetness. "Would you?"

"Sure." Cynthia nodded obediently. "If I get two scoops."

Giggling, Vanessa took the deal. "Two scoops it is."

* * *

Next door, the reason why Vanessa had been so eager to get out of the cabin for a while had continued to put the already unpacked books into their destined order under muffled curses, not even aware of the fact that he had been abandoned by the majority of his helpers.  
Quietly, the only remaining female under the roof slid inside, observing the scene with unmasked curiosity.  
His movements seemed nearly frantic and not at all like him and for a moment she felt like Dr. Frankenstein must have felt upon realising that his creation had gone all wrong.  
Apparently, spurring him on a little too much resulted in the kind of restless overachievement not uncommon in his family that efficiently wrecked the nerves of everyone else involved without even trying.  
Once he seemed to collect himself to a certain extent, presently losing the frantic edge, she stepped closer, deciding to make her presence known.

"Looks like it's just you and me now." Blair's voice made him freeze in his movements, his head not even turning to face her until she had continued to speak. "You've successfully managed to chase your imported assistant away. And I thought I was bossy and hard to please."

"You're not even as hard to please as you make yourself out to be." Dan informed her matter-of-factly. "You just pretend to be insatiable so that people will try harder."

Her annoyed eye roll brought a grin to his lips which was soon to be wiped off again.

"Stop thinking you've got me all figured out because you don't." The brunette scoffed, raising an eyebrow. "Besides, this is about _you_ being unbearable enough to make your closest friends leave, not _me_. Don't tempt me or I might do the same."

"Oh _come on_." The man protested stubbornly. "As if I was that bad."

Blair's expression said more than a thousand words but Dan wasn't willing to give in just yet.

"Since when is exhibiting a little perfectionism considered a bad thing in Blair Waldorf's world?"

"Since we've had to realise that perfection is unachievable." Blair brushed him off in the blink of an eye. "Remember? Our shared realisation that some things just aren't meant to be?"

"This is an entirely different situation."

The brunette shook her head. "It's not. Stop fooling yourself and more importantly, stop being a bitch. It's unbecoming on you."

At last, that shut him up. Swallowing, Dan remained quiet for a while, wanting to choose his words wisely and eventually opting for untainted honesty:

"I just want this to be perfect regardless, alright? This last phase of my life was anything but and this time, I want things to go well, for just this once. Thus I could use a little non-existent perfection and that really can't be such a morally questionable request, can it?"  
Sighing quietly, his eyes wandered back to search the woman's soft brown orbs that, for a change, were full of understanding.

"It can't," Blair agreed softly, "but need for perfectionism can become toxic if you take it too far which you, my dear, are guilty of. Now, let me tell you how we'll do it."  
Gently placing her hand on his forearm, she unconsciously began to speak to him in the manner she spoke to Cynthia whenever she had to teach her a valuable lesson, with a melodic softness that would forbid you to protest without being firm or strict.  
"We'll get back to unpacking, put everything roughly in the place where it belongs and then on a rainy day when boredom overcomes you, you can let perfection into your system. But not today. Deal?"

Dan's gaze had lingered somewhere between her hand and her eyes but, once it was his turn to reply, had shot back up.  
This whole thing had gotten too serious by now thanks to his silly sentimentality and by the looks of it, it was on him to lighten the mood again.  
Luckily for him, she had made it so easy for him to poke fun at her.  
With a sly grin forming on his lips, he couldn't help but mock her with an innocent "Yes, mom."

The immediate result was her letting go of his arm to instead shove him though her voice lacked offence.

"Just because you've made me one doesn't mean you have the right to call me that." She enlightened him with a sarcastic eye roll, tugging on his arm as she picked up the joke herself "Now be a good boy and stop wasting our time. We have work to do."

* * *

While the elder Waldorf had at last regained control of the situation, the younger Waldorf was enjoying her go-to ice cream selection of chocolate and chocolate cookies whereas her accomplice had opted for a fruitier mix of raspberry and blueberry.  
Though sceptical at first, Cynthia had soon declared Vanessa to be not much of a threat - considering her father got on her nerves enough to make her flee the scene, she certainly wasn't likely to get between him and her mother.  
However, she remained somewhat suspicious of the woman.  
If there was one thing telenovelas were a reliable source for, it had to be that overly nice women who came seemingly out of nowhere more often than not had a hidden agenda.

Testing the waters, the girl found the time for seemingly innocent inquiries between licks.

"So how long have you known my dad?"

"How long? Oh God, _ages._" Vanessa laughed. "Honestly, I can't remember a time when I didn't know him."

"That sounds long." Cynthia pursed her lips, now getting to the more important matter. "And you've always only been friends?"

What the child didn't know was that Vanessa had been prepared for this particular question in advance.

_"If she asks, tell her we were never more than friends."_ _Dan had instructed her with persistence._ _"She gets weirdly jealous and when she does, she seems to be overflowing with hatred for such a little girl."_

"Yeah, nothing more." The brunette therefore shrugged. "I mean, if you've known a guy for so long you'll start to ponder if there could be more at some point but usually, you'll be left to realise that there's nothing more than friendship meant to be between you. That you just don't really see each other that way, you know?"

The fact that she hadn't completely lied to Cynthia was nothing but a mere formality but it made her feel considerably better about herself.  
The slight implications didn't seem to faze the girl much.  
All that mattered to her was that Vanessa wasn't going to interfere with the great (yet to be developed) masterplan and now she was sure she could safely be trusted.

"Do you think my parents see each other that way?" She asked the woman rather boldly who licked her ice cream extra slowly to have more time to think of a proper reply.

"Well, I'm sure they used to." Even as she spoke, she just knew Cynthia would not be satisfied with this obvious excuse for an answer.  
She had only met this girl two hours ago but had already deciphered her to a certain extent - and more might not ever be revealed to her.  
If you managed to figure out what made Cynthia tick, it wasn't because you were so brilliantly talented when it came to reading people - no, it was simply that she didn't mind you figuring out certain things or perhaps even _wanted_ you to.  
As if she had gone through years of training, the girl had effortlessly mastered dosing herself in a dash of exquisite mystery some Hollywood divas hadn't mastered quite as well at the ripe age of thirty.  
Keeping in mind that she was only four, she of course had an occasional slip-up here and there but none of those were really worth mentioning.  
Anything else would only make her appear frighteningly out of this world.

As expected, Cynthia frowned slightly. "Yeah, but do they still see each other that way?"

This time, Vanessa's answer was considerably speedier.

"I guess Dan-" Eyes squeezed shut, she corrected herself. "I think your dad still does, yeah." Her friend's newly acquired title would still take some getting used to. "About your mom, however, I just don't know. I mean, today is the first time I've seen her in over five years."

Nearly thoroughly satisfied, Cynthia dismissed the woman's nervous giggle and voiced one final question that was burning on her mind:

"But you've seen them together today - do you think there's a chance she does?"

Thinking back to everything she had indeed seen today, Vanessa allowed herself another moment of silence as she tried to make up her mind.  
There was no denying that Blair had gone through considerable changes over the years - or perhaps she was only now letting sides to her show that had always been present but hidden behind her Queen Bee facade, well-guarded until she had decided to present them to the public.  
Perhaps that must have been what Dan had seen in her all along.  
Come to think of that - that guy had managed to woo Blair Waldorf at a time when most of his friends were still convinced they felt nothing but burning hatred for one another so why, oh why should he not be able to score the girl again now that they had a child together and were far away from the different worlds they used to be caught in back in New York?

Taking all of that into consideration, Vanessa's lips finally parted to present the hopeful girl with a response:

"I don't really see why not. And they do make a surprisingly cute couple."

"I know, I spotted that _immediately._" Cynthia agreed as if she actually knew what she was talking about. "That's why I've been working hard on getting them back together."

"Oh yeah?" Vanessa asked, astonished. Dan had failed to mention that part of the story completely - sounded like legitimate proof that he was still as oblivious to women's (who didn't go by the name Blair Waldorf) schemes as he had been ever since she could remember.  
"How has that been working out for you?"

Cynthia shrugged dismissively, frowning. "It's a slow progress but once I get them there, it'll be worth it."

Vanessa nodded in understanding, raising an eyebrow at the girl as her lips curled up into a small grin - ostensibly, she had a bee in her bonnet:

"Need any help with that?"

Studying the woman's expression, Cynthia soon mirrored her grin:

"I can use all the support I can get."

* * *

All the support she could get was also a thing Blair had believed she could use prior to her little intervention that had proved to be a success.  
Without further protest, Dan had allowed her to regain her reign and, as expected, as soon as matters were in her hands again, everything went rather smoothly.  
In fact, if they kept up this pace, they might manage to have everything unpacked and (roughly) in its place within the hour.

At last, all books were taken care of which just had to be the biggest workload to tackle and thus things could only pick up from there.  
Side by side, the two were sitting on the floor, each of them decked out with a box they unpacked with an eagerness one could only compare to that of Santa's little helpers that had left a lasting impression on ever so many impressionable kids after a viewing of their favourite Christmas movie.  
Dan's box of choice had been labelled "DVDs", Blair's "Vinyls".  
Come to think of it, leaving her to deal with the newer medium of the two might have been a far better idea.  
His taste in movies she could mostly approve of, his taste in music however was a whole different story.  
Actually, if she was completely honest, she barely even knew what he listened to.  
Even when they were dating, music hadn't seemed to be one of their top concerns, too busily caught up had they been in analysing cinematography of their favourites films amongst other things of far greater importance.

But ever since she had met Dan Humphrey, her imagination had been quick to give him one of the worst tastes she could think of off the top of her head.  
Back then, that really hadn't been hard to do. Everything about that guy had just screamed disaster, almost a little too loudly to be taken seriously.  
Turns out most assumptions she had made right there and then were as wrong as they could be - and if there was one thing Blair Waldorf loathed up until this day, it was being wrong.  
Never could she have managed to get over that bad habit of hers. Nor would she ever get tired of teasing him - she simply got too much of a kick out of it.  
In retrospect, she found it hard to understand how she had even managed to go five years without doing it; she certainly had missed it although she hadn't been aware of it at the time.  
It came as no surprise that in spite of all the knowledge she had gained concerning Dan Humphrey's usually not quite as bad as expected taste her first instinct was to ridicule him for whatever he chose to listen to.  
Without paying explicit attention to what she was about to pick on, she grabbed the first vinyl she could get her hands on.

"Really, Humphrey? You listen to-" Glancing down at the sleeve, the lump that was threatening to form in her throat was hard to swallow but she somehow managed to carry on with her tirade as if she actually meant it. "The Doors?"  
Or well, somewhat at least. She sure had managed to sound more convincing in the past but she was sure she could still sell it if she tried hard enough.

Too surprised by the fact that she apparently detested one of the greatest psychedelic rock bands of all time, Dan indeed didn't catch her wavering voice.

"What's supposed to be wrong with the Doors?" He asked in astonishment.

"Nothing. Or well, I mean, their revival's just _so_ early 2000s, don't you think? You shouldn't _still_ be listening to them." The woman tried to save whatever was left to save - God, was she off her game right now. "Besides, I never got the big hype anyway. They're really not _that_ great. If anything, I'd label them _unspectacular._ I don't think I've ever listened to a song of theirs in full length."

Gasping, Dan shook his head before taking the trashed vinyl from her.

"Then it's about time we change that." He decided, switching on the already set up record player - one of the cabin's perks - before she had time to protest, abandoning the LP jacket beside her knees.  
"Now if you leave this place not adoring at least one of the songs on this, your taste is tragically the exact opposite of impeccable." Grinning, he kept his back turned to her as he resumed setting up, knowing exactly what her face currently displayed - an expression of utter offend and stinging sarcasm.

"My taste is the definition of impeccable, thank you very much." Rolling her eyes, Blair carried on unpacking, frowning at what she got her hands on.  
"Just how much of them do you have?" She asked in annoyance after uncovering The Doors record after The Doors record.

"I guess all of them?" Dan shrugged dismissively, glancing over his shoulder. "If you could be a bit careful with all of those, please. Pretty much all that is in that box are original releases."

Scoffing quietly, she indeed placed the one she was still holding just a little more carefully on the pile.

"Well, now it's clear why you've always been poor, Humphrey. Your priorities are tremendously out of proportion."

"Just because my priorities never matched your love for designer clothes and Riviera trips doesn't mean they're out of proportion, Waldorf." Stepping back to her side, he knelt back down without throwing her another glance. "I just happen to enjoy other things in life. The kind that lasts me longer than a mere season. Please just keep unpacking." He told her with a teasing edge to his tone.

In spite of herself, Blair obeyed without another remark (for the time being). In a way, he did have a point but she didn't care to admit that.  
Working her way through the Rolling Stones, The Smiths and the Sex Pistols, she endured (perchance secretly enjoyed) the music, now the only noise that filled the room, but soon considered it uncharacteristic for the Blair Dan still so vividly remembered to not be playfully complaining.

"Can we skip this one? It's repetitive and its tiring."

Stopping in his tracks, he turned to look at her, both amused and baffled.

"You don't skip on vinyl. You just _don't_." He dismissed her, struggling not to laugh.

"But you can."

"But you don't. It's just... _Not right._"

Blair rolled her eyes at his evident amusement. "Whatever you say. Let's just hope for your sake I won't have to endure this much longer."

Just as she grabbed the LP jacket, the song came to an end to Dan's triumph. "Your wish is my command." He noted dryly but froze once he caught a glimpse of what had slipped out of the sleeve and onto the floor.

Blair, on the other hand, had heard it slip but had decided not to pay attention to it for another moment.

"You'd make an awful genie." Reading the back, she whined dramatically. "Great. The next one's over seven minutes. That can't be anything but a disaster."  
Dropping it again, she was now eager to find out what mysterious item had been hidden in the sleeve and caught Dan staring it down before she even recognised what is was supposed to be.

Voicing her confusion with knit brows, she reached for it but was stopped by her panicking companion.

"Nothing." He quipped a little too nervously, about to snatch it right away from her - but he had stayed frozen for a moment too long to succeed.  
Instead of to the photo, his palm wandered straight to his face, covering his cheek and forehead in embarrassment.

In her hand, Blair was holding a Polaroid photography she remembered all too well now that she got to look at it again.  
It had been taken on a night spent at the only place in Brooklyn she had enjoyed being at when they were still dating and was significantly different from the photos she had shown Cynthia to round up the first round of the big paternity reveal - for once, they didn't look like they were mad at each other but like they were happily revelling in the bliss each other's company provided them with.  
Come to think of it, no matter how hard she wrecked her head, she couldn't think of a photo on which she was depicted equally as happy that hadn't been taken in her childhood.  
The two were looking at each other, laughing without inhibitions as if they hadn't even been aware of getting their picture taken - thinking back to that night, they really hadn't.  
Further inspection revealed a quote that had been scribbled onto the white in Dan's handwriting, covering not only the front but also the back: _"I looked at her and looked at her, and knew as clearly as I know I am to die, that I loved her more than anything I had ever seen or imagined on earth, or hoped for anywhere else."_

The silence between them (for the most part filled with a guitar solo) was heavy and soon enough unbearable for Dan, the great poet using borrowed words, who awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Looks like I mostly listened to this one five years ago." He mumbled shyly, a sense of apology in his tone.

Slowly tearing her eyes from the polaroid, Blair briefly shook her head.

"There's no need for self-justification." She stated softly. "I just wish you hadn't gotten that quote from _Lolita_, as beautiful as it is."

And with that statement, both of them reached the point where they could laugh about it - perhaps somewhat prematurely.

"Don't let the subject matter stain the beauty of the art." Dan joked, visibly relaxing.

Blair's acknowledgement of the joke consisted of a lazy, clearly absentminded nod. Seemingly out of the blue, she instead asked a burning question of hers:

"Can I keep this?"

In shock, Dan was too slow to reply.

"I'll give you another one in return."

"I don't know," he eventually stuttered while attempting to regain his cool, "after all, that was a rather special night."

"You mean the night Rufus uncovered an old Polaroid camera and made a complete fool of himself trying to fix it considering it hadn't been broken in the first place?" Blair chimed in, barely able to keep herself from grinning. "Very special, indeed."

In contrast, Dan was barely able to keep himself from smiling. "You remember that night?"

"Very vividly." She confirmed. "Just like everything else."

Turning her back to him, she reached for her purse, rummaging through it as she spoke: "Mine wasn't taken on quite such a special night but it still has a special story to it so the sentimental value could be about equal."

Finally in luck, she triumphantly handed a photograph to him that once again showed only the two of them - but this time at an event, before they were dating.  
Although their happiness did not appear to be of such a reckless nature as that on the polaroid, they certainly were enjoying each other's company a little more than their friends would have believed them to at the time.  
Dan studied it closely, immediately realising that they must have been in the process of teasing each other, once more not posing for the camera but being caught off guard, in complete oblivion.

"And you always just carry a photo of us around with you for good luck?" He asked rhetorically, unable to even for a second believe that that was an undeniable fact.

"Of course not." Blair shook her head. "I only got it back very recently. That's the story actually."

It wasn't hard to tell that she had captured his interest in an instant.

"Remember Angie? I gave it to her for safekeeping five years ago." Rolling her eyes, the brunette still found it harder to talk about the incident than she liked to and thus hurried through it. "When I moved here, it somehow wasn't stored away with the other photos and that's how she stumbled upon it and of course she was curious and inquired who you were. I, in a foolish rush of pregnancy hormones, burst out crying when I saw it and that's why she decided to keep it until I was, to use her words,_ 'ready to look at it again.'_ I might have told her right then that I wouldn't need it anymore but I guess that wasn't quite correct. Anyway, since she still had it, I thought I might as well get it back now." A dismissive wave of her hand signalled him that this was all he would get out of her regarding that story for tonight. "What do you say?"

Pausing for another moment, his gaze scanned the photo again, then jumped to her. "I'll take it."

Thoroughly satisfied, Blair watched him store the exchanged photo in the sleeve again, "out of habit," he declared.  
She herself took another look at the one she had just acquired before it disappeared in her bag.  
But even out of sight, the words written on it refused to fade, consuming her mind and making her stomach flutter.

"That quote," she began timidly, at first averting her doe eyes but at last searching his, "did you mean it at the time?"

This was easy for him to answer - or so he thought at first.  
But the longer her gaze burned into his, the harder he found it to release her from this tension with a simple and honest "I did."  
So many questions had filled his mind over the course of the day, so much restraint had intensified their importance and raised the volume of the nagging voices at the back of his head urging him to finally let the words glide from his tongue instead of keeping them lingering inside his overused brain.  
Even the photo exchange mere seconds ago had awakened the urge to inquire further, badly, but it had been obvious from the start that now was not the time to be pushing for details.  
Perhaps it wasn't the time to say what he was about to say either.  
Alas, who was he fooling? It most definitely wasn't. They had gone over this topic time and time again and always come to the same conclusion.

Yet, as he kept his gaze on hers, he said it determinedly, not forceful but with a bemusing boldness: "I still do."

Bracing himself for another Waldorf lecture about the dangers of acting on feelings and pursuing relationships he had received so many of recently, he took a deep breath, unconsciously preparing himself for what was really about to come.  
Tilting her head to the side, Blair studied him quietly, well aware of the fact that he meant it.  
Perhaps it was a miserable exaggeration for the sake of poetic prose but the core message, the fact that he loved her, that he might have never stopped loving her, was all the same.  
Not that this changed anything. Only fools were led on by pretty words, she should know.  
But in spite of that knowledge, in spite of herself, she leaned closer.  
In this instant, she didn't care that she was being foolish. Not giving him time to back away, she pressed her lips to his without a warning, much like she had before, and she didn't care about anything at all.  
In this moment, her mind was void of all thoughts; all that didn't revolve around his lips resolved into the darkness of oblivion with Morrison's voice prickling in the background like a lit fireside's vows of intimacy.

Luckily for him, Dan's reaction was scarcely differing from hers.  
His mind was filled with nothing but the lyrics to Light My Fire as they were sung, Blair's timing being so on point that they had tackled the seemingly never-ending solos right on time for this to happen, sufficiently suppressing his usual urge to seek reassurance by breaking up a beautiful thing in order to make sure that the one who had induced the act was certain they actually meant to.  
Never would he dare to interrupt her again when her impulses took over like this; not a chance in hell.  
For a change, he wasn't showing a single sign of hesitation, savouring this moment, just in case it would be the last of the kind.

The lack of resistance on his side led to a lack of restrain on her side he soon was infected with and before they even knew it, they overstepped boundary after peckish boundary.  
At first, innocence was still insured with nothing more than subtle touches; her hands on his cheek and chest, twitching fingers gripping the fabric; his left on the back of her head, tangled in her lavish locks, his right leaving the floor to hold her waist once she slid closer, indicating that this was not to remain as chaste as it currently was.  
Nearly simultaneously parted lips allowed their tongues to collide in a kind of playful synchronisation that made both of them feel like it couldn't have possibly been five years since they had last kissed like this.  
No, it couldn't have been that long when it felt like not a day had passed, like they were miles away in a certain loft in Brooklyn doing all the things that wouldn't make their parents proud all over again.  
Operated by this too-good-to-be-true-belief, Blair was on the verge of considerably gaining boldness and sliding onto his lip, the ultimate silent signal that kissing wouldn't be all they'd do tonight in her book, when certain audible background changes pulled her back down from her reckless floating position to reality.  
The music had stopped, this being the last song on side A, right on time for muted chatting and rattling in the distance to not go unnoticed - the kind that clearly indicated someone was about to enter through the front door.

Abruptly, the pair broke apart, quietly panting, their faces lightly flushed.  
Well, shit. This shouldn't have happened, surely not.  
Yet it had. And she was fully responsible of it.  
Though they were no longer touching, the lack of distance between them left a prickling sense of intimacy in the air better to be forgotten immediately.  
Dan's brown orbs were staring right at hers, his look conveying that he was prepared for the worst possible outcome but once more leaving the initiative to her.  
Swallowing hard after she had allowed her breathing to steady, Blair meekly proposed the (what she hoped to be) easiest solution for dealing with this incident of indecency:

"Can we pretend this never happened?"

_Oh, how very unexpected._ Naturally, this had been too good to be true - it still was. Dan's expression remained even nevertheless.

"If that's what you want." He assured her softly.

_Was it?_ She didn't know.  
Nor did she care to think it through at this very moment, Vanessa's and Cynthia's return still looming in the fast approaching future.  
An unreadable smile served as a mute reply, letting her avoid a definite answer.  
The continued pounding of her heart as well as the fact that Light My Fire remained on repeat on her iPod for the entirety of the night might have made her actual position, one she did not even dare to admit to herself, much clearer - if only Dan knew of either of those signs.


	16. surviving the afterglow

_a/n: alas, my darlings, I return at last with a new chapter after what might have just been the longest break to date? I'm so sorry. I've given you my reasons before so let's not get into it again. However, I can safely assure you that writing the next one won't take me as long.  
Today, I get to present to you the raciest chapter to date I believe? It might just stay the raciest as well as I'm awful at writing smut (plus it takes me ages and we don't want any further delays, do we) It's a bit of a weird chapter I have mixed feelings about to be honest but, alas, here it is. I hope it's not too poorly formatted - I'm publishing this at 1 am after rushing to finish editing so it might not be flawless but if that's the case, I'll revise it over the weekend.  
Next up, we'll have a little interlude that'll show us a bit of what Dan's been up to those past five years, we'll have some more father-and-daughter bonding time and, once the time is right, Queen B will have to bless the Upper East Side with her presence again - if the Upper East Side doesn't come to her first.  
The biggest kudos to everyone still reading and sticking with me and this story even though I'm crap these days - it will get better, the time has come - and thanks for all the feedback, as you know.  
One more Special Guest Appearance by Vanessa Abrams xoxo  
_

* * *

In a world lacking disturbances of an ever so fickle kind, their kiss intensified.  
As planned, or actually more out of instinct, Blair slid onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. God, even just this felt heavenly to her at this point.

"Isn't this about the time when you ask me if I really want this?" Teasing, she broke away but kept her face close enough to his to feel the full force of his warm breath mingling with hers.

Even though his first reaction had been an amused grin, Dan's eyes met hers with a determination that matched the serious tone he chose to employ:  
"Blair, I've been waiting five years for this. I'd rather not say anything that might encourage you to make me stop kissing you."

His left hand had lightly massaged her scalp until now; his right had wandered from her waist down to her tight where he was playing with the hemline of her skirt.

Licking her lips, the brunette giggled with delight. "Don't you ever dare stop."

Kissing him sweetly, she managed to mutter a breathless "Don't you ever," before she completely lost herself in the taste of his mouth again.  
It was roughly the same she remembered, always laced with a hint of roasted coffee - and she craved it. Badly. Desperately.  
She craved him, there was no denying that.  
A torturously slow roll of her hips confirmed that he, as far as she could tell, craved her as well.

Gasping into her mouth, Dan wrapped her legs around him, then got up and carried her to his bedroom, blinded by haste kisses but not bumping into anything nonetheless.  
Now that her body touched the sheets, they were back at the loft, she was sure of it.  
Tearing her lips from his, she impatiently tucked his shirt off, happy to see that he was eager to cooperate.

"I hope five years of waiting haven't given you unrealistic expectations." Licking her lips, she let her gaze stray from his eyes to his chest.  
Not much seemed to have changed since she had last gotten to see him with his shirt off - if anything, his muscles were slightly more defined. The years had certainly treated him well.  
Smirking at her, he motioned her to turn around but ended up impatiently assisting her, nuzzling his nose against the side of her neck.

"None you couldn't fully live up to." He breathed against her skin as he began to unzip her dress. Placing featherlight kisses down her spine, he made quick work of undressing her but left her bra untouched.  
A lustful sigh escaped her lips.  
How had she not missed this all these years? She must have, she just hadn't been aware of it.  
Feeling his hand creep up to cup her still clothed breast, she tried to swallow a soft moan - and failed - before she peeked over her shoulder at him.

"How did I even manage to stay away from you for you all these years?" Her voice was already getting raspy from desire as words of pure honesty poured out of her.  
Never did she manage to admit to her true feelings so effortlessly, lacking a teasing edge, than when they were having sex. Or were about to. Or were revelling in the afterglow.  
But not constantly hearing her profess her love for him without a little teasing certainly didn't hurt him - he was cocky enough, his current sly grin served as proof for just that.

"That's a mystery we might never solve." He growled playfully, his breath hitting the back of her neck with every word. "Let me ensure you'll never get ideas and cut me out of your life again."

Biting her lip, Blair nodded obediently, then swiftly turned around to kiss him.

"Then get naked already." Breathlessly, she whispered against his lips as her eager fingers unbuttoned his pants, then reached for his zipper.

Although Dan allowed her to unzip it, he stopped her afterwards, lacing her fingers with his.

"First," he whispered, his gaze burning into hers, "it's your turn."

Releasing her, he took his pants off anyway, then gently pushed her to lie down.

"Allow me to start with what I believe to be one of my strongest arguments." Smirking down at her, he placed another lingering kiss on her lips as his fingers roamed across her torso, soon to find their destination, then swiftly removed her panties.  
Oh, she knew exactly what he considered one of his strongest arguments and she could all but disagree.  
Watching his every move, she chewed on her lip in anticipation. Excitement flooded her entire body with every hastily placed kiss as he made his way down her chest, her stomach and, at last-

* * *

"And then?!"

"And then - what do you think?! I woke up." Blair rolled her eyes at her gulping friend who, in her opinion, had gotten a little too excited over her story. "Stop looking so euphoric, Becca. It was nothing but a silly dream."

Becca did not appear to agree at all. Her dark green orbs scanned the brunette's face expectantly for non-verbal information her friend had neglected to share with her.

"Then why exactly are you sharing it with me?" She asked innocently, fully aware that it was everything but just a silly dream.

Pursing her lips, Blair was determined to come up with a decent explanation - which was easier said than done.  
Why exactly was she sharing it with her anyway?  
Because she had awoken in a deep sweat and ever since then struggled to shake the images off that kept creeping into her mind at the most inconvenient times, pushing her to continuously ponder what could have been?  
Well, obviously, she couldn't tell her _that._

"Because... I just needed to tell someone, okay? To fully comprehend how demented my brain is being." She eventually scoffed. "Besides, you tell me about your sex dreams all the time so why am I left to justify myself right now?"

"Because I don't dream of my, in my case non-existent, baby daddy." Becca explained confidently, knowing very well that Blair was inwardly wincing due to her use of the offending combination of words.

Glaring at the strawberry blonde, she gritted her teeth. "Don't call him my baby daddy. You know I hate that term."

"But that's what he is!" Becca protested. "Unless you're meaning to tell me you'll finally make an honest woman out of yourself and give the guy another try."

Blair shook her head. "That's not an option."

"Of course it is! You're just being foolish." Becca knew she was pushing her friend's buttons but sometimes she really couldn't help it - especially when she was being as foolish as she was when it came to her love life. "Blair, you need to stop."

"No, Becca, _you_ need to stop." At this point, she was thoroughly fed up and, even more so, exhausted. Did she have to constantly repeat herself or would her friends ever learn? "What do you know? You don't have a child."

"But I do," Taking a seat next to Becca, Angela had finally reached her friends' table, "and she's right. You're being foolish."

"Not you as well." Blair groaned. "Child or no child - neither of you knows what it's like to be in my shoes."

Her minor rant gained her a collective eye roll.

"You're right. Because neither of us is as foolish and stubborn as you are." Angie told her calmly. "Everything could be so easy but no, you have to make it hard."

Before Blair had a chance to protest, Becca chimed in. "Exactly. And say, how come you suddenly have dreams of that kind anyway? Did anything happen between you two?"

Though she hadn't had the pleasure of hearing all about Blair's dream who had not left out even an ever so minor detail, Angie now knew exactly what it must have been about.  
Blair, on the other hand, had no clue how one could be so crude as to think she needed a reason to have a meaningless sex dream.  
Wasn't that just the most normal thing in the world? As far as she was informed, it totally was and no one was going to tell her otherwise.

"Why should anything have happened?" She thus scoffed. "Do I suddenly need a reason to dream about an ex in a not-so-chaste manner?"

"Other than your excruciating sexual frustration?" Becca noted dryly. "Why yes, I've got a feeling that you've gotten so used to that constant state that you _do_ need a specific reason to still have sex dreams."

This assumption she was only able to bless with an eye roll.  
Whatever. She wasn't going to let her so-called friends continue to poke fun at her.  
A girl could dream.

* * *

"Helloo? Earth to Dan." Blatantly waving her hands in front of his face until he reacted with evident annoyance, Vanessa couldn't hide the grin pestering her friend usually brought to her lips.  
"God, something huge must have gone down yesterday if you still can't stop thinking about your alone time with Queen B. Did it feel like five years ago all over again?" She teased, hoping to get a confession out of him - but to no avail.

"Vanessa," Dan turned to face her with an utmost serious expression, his voice matching it perfectly, as he removed his earphones, "I really feel like it's about time you stop implying that Blair and I use every ever so little hint of privacy to ravish each other. Because, guess what? We don't. Matter of fact, we're nothing but close friends now and I don't see that changing any time soon."

Still, the brunette wasn't quite convinced. "But you love her, Dan. And since you're sitting here lost in your thoughts like a lovelorn puppy, probably even listening to your lovelorn puppy playlist, I just figured -"

"Well, you shouldn't figure." He rolled his eyes, his expression having changed from serious to somewhat pained. "The nature of my feelings for her isn't of importance. Feelings change, you know. They can easily be altered. And since I'm currently working on that, I'd really appreciate if you didn't constantly remind me of the fact that maybe, once upon a time, I loved her. And for your information, I don't have a lovelorn puppy playlist." He preferred to call it the Princess and the Pauper playlist.

"Whatever. That was, like, a week ago!" Vanessa protested. "You can't just stop loving someone within a week. That's not how it works and you know it."

"Vanessa," Sighing, Dan began to rub his temples, "please, just leave it be. It's her decision and I respect it. So should you."

"Fine." She muttered meekly, pouting slightly. "Don't be mad at me. I just thought... The way she acts around you, the way she looks at you even," Tilting her head to the side, she closely studied her friend's facial features. "Maybe her feelings have changed as well if that happens as easily as you claim. Perhaps she'd rather not stick to her decision." Shrugging, she averted her gaze. "That was just my perception. Might have been flawed."

An enormous force of willpower enabled Dan to keep his expression more or less unmoved but he failed to suppress a small twitch of his mouth, a symbol of the littlest hint of glistening hope he thought best to keep hidden.

"I'm not mad." He dismissed her calmly. "Let's just get going or we won't get through your stroll through town until I have to take you to the airport."

"You're making it sound like this place is as big as NYC." Vanessa shook her head. "I'm sure we'll get through it. It's an overnight flight, remember?"

"Sure." Dan chuckled, standing up. "But don't start trashing my new home. You're supposed to be the tolerant one."

"I am." She corrected him sweetly. "I even tolerate your Waldorf infatuation, don't I?"

Shaking his head, Dan wrapped an arm around her. "Don't push it or I'll put you straight on the next flight."

"You couldn't if you tried." Grinning, the brunette pulled him into a quick hug. "But please, mind my words. Perhaps my perception is flawed but it could as well be yours."

"If you stop making it sound like we're already saying our farewells forever, maybe." Chuckling, he released her again. "Now let's get going. I don't know about you but all of your unfounded assumptions have famished me."

* * *

"You need to stop being so dramatic." Becca's voice caught Blair off guard who had been busy very undramatically chewing for a while already.

"How am I being dramatic? I'm just eating my salad in peace." Rolling her eyes, she viciously stabbed a piece of lettuce that did not seem to want to stay on her fork.

"Not now but in general." Becca's statement was supported by an affirmative nod of Angela's. "I used to think I was the most dramatic person in Cabot Cove. That was before I met you."

"And that might just be the only reason why we get along so well." Blair noted dryly. "You don't even know what I'm like when I'm really being dramatic. I've abandoned most of that when I moved here. In fact, I like to think I'm well-balanced nowadays."

Angie's eyes widened slightly "Then I'm glad I've never had to meet you at the Upper East Side."

"Same." The strawberry blonde nodded. "Granted, you have been relatively well-balanced until your ba-" Clearing her throat, she swiftly corrected herself, "your lover boy showed up."

"Thank you for finally adjusting your vocabulary - to a certain extent, at least." Blair feigned a generous smile. "Whatsoever, I'd love for us to just change the topic for good. Bec, weren't you going to tell me about some new skirt you got or whatever?"

"Ooh yes! Have I shown you the frilly one yet?"

More than glad that this suggestion had sparked such excitement in her fashion-crazed friend, Blair shook her head no while Angela let her gaze stray through the, for Cabot Cove standards, buzzing streets, not much of a frilly skirts person herself.

"Oh my God, no way! Hold on, I'm sure I've worn it in an OOTD already." Fully in her element, Becca's skilled thumb swiped through her impressive collection of selfies seemingly at the speed of light but she still couldn't find what she was looking for fast enough to not be interrupted by Angie's usual voice of secrecy.

"Don't look now," she hushed, keeping her eyes fixed on the opposite side of the road, "but I don't think the universe wanted us to ditch our earlier topic just yet."

The universal textbook example for a phrase that resulted in reverse psychology ever since mankind had first started to employ it once again didn't fail its purpose and made both Blair and Becca look precisely now. Brown and green orbs fell on Dan and Vanessa who was walking to his left - and who happened to be the first one to spot a familiar face that had stopped not looking now right in time for her voyeurism to go unnoticed.

"Oh Dan, _look_!" Vanessa chirped excitedly. "I've been in this town for what, two days and I already run into people I know everywhere I go. Maybe I should move to a small town as well." Fully turning her upper body towards the other side of the street, she waved as if to greet an old friend - and frankly, that came pretty close to what she felt she should label Blair now. "Blair, hi!"

Her voice was loud enough to be heard by the other brunette who slowly turned back around to face her and wordlessly returned her wave with a very well feigned smile.  
This time, Vanessa wasn't the reason why she forced it but whom she was accompanying.  
Hadn't his timing just always been perfect?  
Dan's presence was the last thing she needed right at this very moment.  
Not to mention seeing him now, her dream still lingering in the back of her mind, felt a lot stranger than she wanted it to.  
Whatever happened to pretending?  
Apparently, her irritatingly vivid and possibly sentimental imagination hadn't gotten the memo.

"Who's that chick?" Becca asked curiously, now ogling both without inhibitions. "Do we hate her?"

"Not anymore." The candour in her voice even surprised Blair herself. "Vanessa is an old friend."

"Forget the girl." Angela turned to Becca. "After all these years, you finally get to see the guy who blessed Blair with Cynthia."

"I know!" The other woman gasped before her tone became muffled and dry. "And now I can't stop staring at his mouth thanks to her little bedtime story."

Instantly, Blair slapped the back of her hands, making her whine and pout.

"Then don't look at him at all." She scoffed, biting her lip as she risked another short glance at him.

"How about you don't tell me about your sex dreams involving people I'll actually see a few minutes later?" Her sarcastic demeanour made it clear that she wasn't mad because of her friend's small outburst.

"Should we head over to them?" Now that she was facing the man, it was obvious that Vanessa's - in his opinion unfounded - excitement hadn't ebbed away yet.

Dan shook his head. "No, I don't think so. That small table is already crowded enough."

To him, it was just as obvious that them coming over was the last thing Blair wanted.  
Evidently, she did do an exceptional job at feigning a more cheerful than polite smile so he couldn't blame Vanessa for getting fooled by her.  
Or well, only slightly.  
His background knowledge, though it was only partial, enabled him to take a smart guess as to why she wasn't keen on them coming over but trying her best not to let it show.  
Perhaps pretending was giving her as much of a hard time as it was currently giving him, now that she was in his line of sight again.  
"Come on now. Let's get the ice cream you've become so obsessed with."

Two pairs of eyes remained on the two friends as they walked off; Blair's gaze had briskly been lowered, returning to her nearly fully consumed salad.

"Maybe we should put him to the test." Becca mused, biting her lip until she turned to look at her friend and partner-in-crime seated next to her. "What do you say, Ang? Maybe he's no longer good enough for our dearest darling Blair."

"We should." The dark-skinned brunette nodded. "I've barely ever gotten to speak to him. Jackson seems to like him a lot but a straight guy doesn't know how to properly analyse a potential suitor."

The woman whose match was supposed to be tested let her eyes leave her plate in a rolling motion.

"No one's putting anyone to the test," she declared half-heartedly, "as there is no reason to test something non-existent."

As expected, her friends were not satisfied with her stubbornly unchanged attitude.

"Blair," Angela's tone was as serious as ever, "look, honey, we get it, okay? It's not easy for you to open up and trust a guy just like that. After all, it's been a while. How long exactly..." Her brows narrowed as she tried to recall the last time she had seen the petite brunette with a guy.

"Last year. Tom Conway." Becca was happy to chime in, taking a sip from her milkshake, playing with the straw as she continued. "Did you ever even go all the way?"

The addressed nearly choked on her blackcurrant juice. "With Tom? Never." She frowned in disgust.

"Really?" Both her friends were equally surprised but only Becca was bold enough to put their emotions into words. "Why not? He's certainly a sight for sore eyes."

Blair shrugged. "It just didn't click. At all."

"Okay then." Wrinkling her forehead, the strawberry blonde thought even further back. "No surprise you're always so frustrated. Who was the last lucky guy then? Rhys Lester two years ago?"

The brunette's lip formed a tight line as she shook her head. "Can we just drop it? Please?"

Becca blatantly ignored her. "So it was Rhys."

"Actually, it wasn't." Involuntarily, she let her eyes travel down the sidewalk on the other side of the road, settling on what was left to be seen of the two intruders from her past that had become parts of her present yet again.  
Everything in her, her being in its entirety, thought the mere possibility of openly sharing the truth revolting.  
Maybe it was the sun, at its full beam at noon, under which's merciless beams she had been sitting for a little too long or it was the song humming modestly in the background, spurring her on to take the plunge. Whatever it was, it loosened her tongue and before she could control it, her lips parted as if to speak.

"Actually," one more lingering glance, then her eyes were shyly directed back to her expectant friends, "it was Dan. Five years ago."

Throughout her confession, her voice gave in, making her choke on the words.  
God, if only in the literal sense. Choking sounded like a functioning exit strategy and, right now, she wanted nothing more but to escape these pairs of prying eyes fixed on her.  
In fact, she felt like all eyes were on her, like even the flower lady two blocks away had heard her small croak and her revelation was now burned into her brain, never to be forgotten again.  
Alas, the fact that it was definitely burned into Becca's and Angela's brains was bad enough.  
Would they be looking at her through brand new eyes now? And if so, would they ever look at her in the same old way again?

Indeed, as she looked up, they weren't looking at her the same way - but not due to their irreversibly changed perception of her but out of nothing more than mere and simple shock that soon ebbed away.

This time, it was up to Angela to break the silence.

"Oh, Blair," she sighed, biting her lip, "now it all makes sense to me. No surprise you get so frantic when the possibility to pursue a relationship arises but I really think you should -"

"You should jump his bones." Becca chimed in, nodding as if she had read Angie's mind and put her thoughts into words. "Immediately."

Judging looks from both sides of the table sufficiently shut her up.

"Yeah, that's _not_ what I was about to say." With a dismissive wave of her hand, the darker skinned brunette stressed her point. "Blair, sweetheart, you ought to give him another try. Don't even try to protest, we all know what you're about to say, but just start to think about this for a second. You're still so attached to him that you've failed to establish a relationship to any possible suitor whatsoever for the past five years and believe me, that certainly isn't about to change and it definitely isn't healthy. To get to the point, even for dummies to understand," taking a deep breath, she stared her lectured friend down with determination, "he wants to be with you and you also want to be with him, there's no use denying it. Get the guy already."

Unbeknownst to her, Blair was not at all open to take a lecture to heart at this point.  
Sure, it might not be completely pointless.  
Maybe she was attached to Dan, without knowing it, even without being around him these last years.  
But no, she didn't want to be with him. Or well, maybe she did.  
Whatever.  
She couldn't just snap her fingers and do whatever she felt like doing anymore.  
Impulsiveness was a thing of the past, acting on a whim no longer an option.  
Moving here to raise a child on her own was the last thing she had done some might consider crazy, there was no room for more.  
But was it even right to consider this such a risk that she could only commit to doing it out of impulse?  
Ugh, who knew.  
What she knew now was that this nagging song still playing in the background was to fully take the blame for her sharing her little secret in the first place.  
Even now, the lyrics seemed to want to influence her, to pressure her into simply labelling getting the guy the most logical solution.  
Sure, giving the father of your child a try might not sound like the end of the world but what if it was?  
Her head started to spin, the voice of the British singer filling her mind and effortlessly replacing her thoughts with the chorus.

_This could be worth the risk, worth the guarantee; this could be the drug that never bites_

_Just give me a try, just give me a try_

_Been kind of hoping you might_

_Give me a try_

God, she officially loathed that song. And the band. And the entire universe.

At last, it came to an end - and so did her silence.

Often enough had Angela stressed that she shouldn't even bother protest and thus, she wouldn't. As far as she was informed, her friend was yet to learn how to read minds so she could safely opt for a little white lie for the time being. Actually, she wouldn't even lie.

No, instead she opted for a very vague "We'll see" before she continued to sip her juice. She'd just see. A girl could dream.

* * *

Dan, on the other hand, was blessed enough to enjoy an early afternoon without further lectures, slowly becoming more at ease with the lingering prospect of seeing Blair again and giving pretending a try.  
Given that he had Vanessa in tow, he had prepared himself for the worst long before they even left his new home but them spotting Blair and her Cabot Cove circle of minions - no, scratch that, never mind the outdated term - friends had only increased his apparently unfounded concerns.  
Something about their sort of run in had set off a thought process inside Vanessa's busily working mind he did not care to try to grasp - for the time being, all that mattered to him was that it kept her quiet in the sense of her shying away from bringing up the dreaded topic that were Blair and him again.

Humoured by mindless small talk and carefree chatter, time flew by for Dan and before he knew it, it was about high time to head over to the Waldorf household if he was going to be the one driving his friend to the airport later today and ensuring that she would actually catch her flight - and, God, did her want her to be on that flight regardless of her sudden display of her best behaviour.

Under any other circumstances (the kind that didn't involve them recklessly making out), and that he was certain of, Blair wouldn't have agreed to him once more letting his best friend play the third wheel at their little get together.  
Or well, in an effort of being less harsh than the Blair Vanessa remembered, she would have ended up reluctantly agreeing but her insides would have been burning with fiery aggravation during the act.  
Under the existing circumstances, however, he believed this to be the best solution for everyone involved - and perhaps she felt the same way.  
Oh, she most definitely felt the same way. Even master pretenders could sometimes be off to a rough start so not being put into another one-on-one setting the second they saw each other again would only benefit them.

Pulling into Blair's street still caused a flash of anxiety to stingingly pulse through his veins despite of the ostensive safety bringing another guest was to provide.  
Not that it made any sense.  
He could pretend, he _knew_ he could. And that she could was out of the question.  
There would be no problems whatsoever.  
In fact, their encounter was not even likely to turn out awkward at all.  
Unless he ruined it, of course, which he wouldn't - as long as it could be avoided.

Walking a mere step behind him from the start, Vanessa had no trouble catching up with him as they made their way down the cobblestone path leading to the Waldorf house.  
If she were to say she found it easy to believe that this was without a doubt the place Blair Waldorf had chosen to call home for the last five years already, she would be a terrible liar.  
Even though she had lowered her expectations drastically once she had gotten beyond her first impression of Cabot Cove, she somehow hadn't been able to picture anything but a building one could only call the Waldorf estate. Yes, she had realised that this was prone to still being over the top and tried to tone down her vivid imagination just a little bit more but she still never would have pictured a house like this.  
There was no denying that it was tasteful.  
Actually, she liked it enough that she would probably be very content inhabiting it if she was to settle down. And that was just the thing - never would she have thought Blair to like a house enough to move into for the long term that she herself found to meet her in comparison presumably frighteningly low standards.  
After thorough consideration, she was even sure that this, by far, wasn't the most sophisticated house she had seen in the neighbourhood.  
It wasn't until she spotted the blue hydrangeas that perfectly matched the building's paint that she could at last believe they weren't at the wrong house.  
Briefly smirking at the proof that Blair hadn't completely lost her well-known UES attributes, she threw Dan a glance from the corner of her eyes, naturally sensing his slight discomfort but, luckily for him, misinterpreting it completely.

"Would you rather not have me here right now?" She asked rather boldly, turning her head to look at him.

Formerly lost in his thoughts, Dan was caught off guard, sounding mediocrely confused. "What? No. Seriously, Vanessa, I'm perfectly fine with having you around." More than that - but he wasn't going to tell her he was glad about it or else her ego might sore through the ceiling.

Nodding quietly, the woman didn't quite buy it but smiled at him regardless.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to say anything to embarrass you." She teased, believing the problem to have remained her. "I only really enjoy that when it's just the two of us."

Dan couldn't help a small grin. "You're too kind."

* * *

And he wasn't the only one who had this opinion of Vanessa - though his daughter lacked his sarcasm in that specific matter.  
Having gotten to spend morning and noon in Lupita's company, her father being on babysitting duty for the day, she had clued her friend in on the unexpected help she was now to receive.  
Considering her age, her insight into human nature was not yet excellent but, as most of her attributes, above average and there was something about Vanessa that made her believe the woman was genuine about her offer. If not, she'd just manage handling this herself anyway.  
She'd wing it. Somehow.

Back in her own four walls and consequently her mother's company, she noticed something unusual about her.  
Something... Different was a good, vague term for it.  
Even last night, after Vanessa and she had returned from their little ice cream excursion, Blair had seemed unreasonably nervous to an extent but it wasn't extremely obvious.  
Now, however, she was undeniably tense - even though she did her best to deny it frequently.

Time ticked on relentlessly and with every tick that announced the passing of another hour, the tension seemed to increase, making the grown up of the two brunettes pace like a tiger in a circus cage, chewing on her lip, twirling strands of dark curls around her fingers and releasing them only to pick another strand.  
At last, she reached a state of calmness.  
Unfortunately, Cynthia was not a mindreader, no matter how often she clicked her heels and wished for it, but she still knew that something was off about her mother – and she hoped that that might not have to be a bad thing but perhaps even caused by something that could work very much in her favour.

Alas, it was the infamous calm before the storm.

Telling her friends about her dream had been a major mistake.  
All it had done was increase her anxiety and insecurity instead of bringing her the reassurance she so ardently desired.  
Sure, she had made mistakes before. Plenty, some of them bigger, others smaller.  
But this time, she was doing the right thing and no one could tell her otherwise.  
She neither had the time nor the nerve to deal with her friends' petty pipe dreams. Her being in this state of angst now was living proof for that.  
Disgusted with herself for being so easily influenced, she fiercely concentrated on brushing all treacherous thoughts aside, attempting to fully eliminate all memories of her brunch and most definitely of last night's vivid dreams and nearly succeeding - nearly.

The ring of the doorbell caused her to prematurely snap out of her much needed trance.  
_Shit._ Well, it wasn't like she had a choice.  
Ready or not, it was time to pretend. Properly, preferably.

Donning her best rehearsed fake smile, she swiftly opened the door, ever the perfect host.  
This was a lot harder to pull off than she had expected. Whatever happened to her manipulative skills?

In contrast to her, Dan appeared to have become a true master at pretending - or how else could he be able to smile at her in that sheepish manner as if nothing had ever happened between them?  
Granted, their imitation of hormonal preteens the night before might not have disrupted his sleep quite like it had hers.  
Matter of fact, he might not have been affected by it at all. Forcing herself to focus on her act, she nonchalantly motioned her guests inside.

"I'm so glad you both made it." Her greeting felt unnatural but Vanessa's (though welcome) presence had made her even more insecure about how to approach this situation. "So perfectly on time as well." That barely saved it but it was better than just leaving it like that.

"Relicts of our poor-people-upbringing, as I'm sure you know." Dan chuckled, stepping closer to indulge in their newly-found ritual of hugging in greeting.  
The instant they touched, however, Blair felt a spark she was not willing to feel and promptly denied him, slipping out of his reach and leaving everyone in the hall dumbfounded.

"Static electricity, I'm sorry." She muttered apologetically, an awkward snicker accompanying her haste excuse as she crossed her arms in front of her chest to avoid any further attempts at physical contact.

Dan's brows knit in confusion. "Sure, those things happen...I guess." Nope, he wasn't buying it.

"All the time." Nodding, Vanessa agreed with a polite smile, exchanging a glance with the underage Waldorf as she entered the room.

"Mom's been tense all day already." Shrugging dismissively but in reality not at all being dismissive about her mother's strange behaviour, she took it upon herself to hug her father instead.

Blair struggled not to blush. "I'm just feeling a bit under the weather today so I'm probably better off not touching anyone anyway." Meekly, she justified herself.  
In her opinion, that actually was a more than appropriate label for her state.

"Should we rather go?" Vanessa was quick to offer. "I really don't want to bother you if you're not feeling well."

"Oh no! It's nothing, really," the addressed brunette swallowed, "I'm good. If anything, it's just a common cold in the making."

Both Cynthia and her father eyed her suspiciously but didn't address the matter further.  
There were more important things on the girl's mind than catching her mother in yet another lie.

"I'd really like to show Vanessa my room if that's okay." She, as per usual, more asked than stated, her gaze wandering from one woman to the next.

This was the first answer Blair was confident about giving.

"Sure," relieved, she nodded, "that's a great idea, actually."

"I'd love to see it." Vanessa threw in, immediately recognising the nature of the look Cynthia was throwing her.

"Can I offer you anything first?" Ever the courteous host, the brunette stuck to the protocol but was promptly to be freed from her obligations.

One last "Let me know if you need anything" escaped her while the two other females were still in earshot, then it was just Dan and her.

For once, it was upon him to have the first word.

"Should I be stocking up on tissues since I must have been very much exposed to those germs last night or will fictional ones do for a fictional infection?"

Aghast at this unexpected boldness, his tone blatantly cool, perhaps even to be considered harsh, Blair failed to deliver a quick comeback, thus missing the chance to defend herself before he spoke again.

"Whatever happened to pretending, Blair?"

There was a hint of offend in his voice she believed he could not have a real reason for and the intensity of his stare burning into hers was threatening to weigh her head down and avert her eyes but every fibre of her being refused to give in and let him accuse her of something she wasn't guilty of.  
Locked eyes, raised brows and the defense strategy was in full swing.

"Why, Dan, I believe you're the only one here who's currently not pretending."

How she managed to sound so indifferent, so nonchalant in spite of everything, she didn't know but, God, was she grateful for it.

However, Dan wasn't at all intimidated. No, by the looks of it, he was only getting started.

"Oh, so _this_ is how you pretend nowadays? I'm terribly sorry to have to break it to you but your performance is just about _the worst_ you've ever pulled off. Is this how it's supposed to be from now on? Because, frankly, that's nothing but _a farce_."

"_Excuse me_?" Now she remembered why she had gone out of her way to avoid arguments these past years - properly arguing was such a task when you were keen on keeping your voice down. "The only _farce_ here is _this conversation_. I don't even know were these unfounded accusations are coming from."

"From the fact that you keep contradicting yourself, Blair." He immediately shot back. "_Constantly._ One second you just want to be friends. The next you're all over me but before you can even blink, you'd rather just pretend again. And then today, you're acting like the world as we know it ended last night." With his fingers buried in his hair, Dan shook his head. "None of this makes any sense! Can't you see that?"

"Well, the world doesn't really make sense, now, does it?" Surely one of her, if not the weakest arguments but it was all she had at this point.  
Granted, maybe she wasn't making sense.  
But was that a new development? Shouldn't he know her well enough by now to know that always making sense wasn't exactly a forte of hers?  
"It also doesn't make sense that you actually seem to want to pick a fight with me over this?" The small hint of hysterical disbelief towards the end of the sentence made it obvious that she had been leading a far too peaceful life for her character in Cabot Cove. The only person she still properly fought with since moving here was her mother. Whenever she couldn't just avoid talking to her.

Dan swallowed prior to muttering: "I don't."

Good. Looked like he had at last noticed how embarrassingly overreacting he was.  
Already, Blair thought herself victorious. As per usual.  
Oh, what a glorious feeling she had nearly forgotten about. Alas, it was to wane within seconds.

Now seemingly calm again, her defeated opponent sighed.

"It was never my intention to pick a fight with you over this but..." Struggling to find the right words, he temporarily became infatuated with a non-existent spot on the ceiling in hopes it would enlighten him, then lowered his gaze again to meet hers. "Don't get me wrong - I _can_ pretend. And I will_._ But what I can't deal with is this happening again. This ought to be a one-time case of pretending. Making me do this over and over again just because neither you nor the world make sense -" Swallowing a fit of frantic laughter, he shook his head again. "Considering you know how I feel about you, I don't think it's fair to put me in this position so please just do me this one favour and don't let it happen again." Clearing his throat made it sound a little less like a plea but it still was nearly impossible not to sense his discomfort.

Well, realising you were wrong all along made a victory far less glorious.  
In fact, she felt like a truly horrible person lacking all sorts of empathy.  
Of course he hadn't just stopped seeing her that way overnight even if for a second she had thought he might have.  
But the most degrading part of this all was that she was making such a scene when, in reality, he was the only one who had the right to make it.  
If someone who was so sure about his feelings that he openly confessed to her that he loved her could willingly pretend nothing happened between them, how did she gain the right to treat him any different just because her head was swimming with uncertainty and her dreams weren't precisely PG?  
She didn't. Simple as that.

Meekly peeking up at him through her lashes, she breathed an honest, guilt-ridden "I'm sorry" before she went on to detonate the situation.

"I won't make you pretend again, I promise. And I'm really just - I don't know, it's just not my day today." Rolling her eyes, she waved her hand dismissively, hoping they could just leave it at that. "Are we good?" She thus added hopefully.

For another moment, Dan simply studied her intently, then mustered a small smile.

"Yeah, we're good." He rolled his eyes in the same fashion.

"Fabulous." Regaining her spirits, Blair beamed brightly at him. "Because, matter of fact, I have something for you. In the kitchen. Come on." Stepping closer, she took his hand and dragged him into the right direction, at last in full-on pretending mode.

"In the kitchen?" Alarmed, he struggled not to chuckle as he followed her. "Please don't say you cooked for me."

"Hey, what makes you think I can't cook?" Stopping in her tracks, the brunette swiftly turned around, throwing him the ultimate look of judgement which was met with a thoroughly amused grin.

"Oh, maybe just the fact that I've known you for a couple of years by now." Dan explained innocently, making her frown slightly.

"Well, maybe I learnt to cook. Being a mother and all." She rebuffed him.

Oh, he was right, though. She still couldn't cook to save her life. All the cooking books she had bought over the years were filled with undecipherable secrets for her and thus, she usually retorted to baking. That she could do better than most people she knew.

"Regardless, no food for you. It's better than that." She announced confidently, motioning to the table on which neatly placed papers and pens were laid out, anxiously waiting to get attention.

To Dan, it was indeed better than even the best food she could have served him.

"You got me an AOP?" He asked excitedly to confirm his suspicion.

Happily nodding, Blair motioned him to sit. "Now that you've officially moved here, I thought it was the perfect time. All that's left for you to do is sign."

Upon closer examination, that was really all that was left for him to do - well, almost.  
Blair had already taken it upon her to fill out nearly all of his information - even parts of it he hadn't at all expected her to recall.

"I can't believe you remembered my middle name." He noted dryly, scanning over the forms.

"Well, Humphrey," sitting down beside him, Blair scooted closer, smiling innocently. "it's hard to forget a name as hideous as Randolph."

Challengingly raising an eyebrow, he mirrored her smile. "Cornelia's not much better, Waldorf."

"Of course it is!" As per usual, her first instinct was defensiveness - but seconds later, they both burst out laughing.

"Fine, whatever. At least our daughter's isn't quite as bad, even though it stems from your family." Shrugging nonchalantly, she handed him a pen, more than glad that they apparently were able to pretend - and to return to their usual ways rather effortlessly, it seemed.

"That one is indeed acceptable, thank you very much." Dan sneered sarcastically, knitting his brows once he read over the complete form again. "But it looks like there is something unacceptable about her name after all. You forgot to fill out her last name." He pointed out, holding the pen out for her to retrieve again but Blair had no intention of taking it just yet.

"I know." She instead softly clarified. "I thought that you might want her to have yours so I left it blank for the time being."

To say that he would have ever even dared to envision this moment would have been a complete and utter lie. In Dan's mind, Blair being willing to change Cynthia's last name was never even a possibility and he hadn't had any trouble accepting that - but the offer certainly was tempting.

"You'd be willing to give her my name?" In disbelief, he couldn't refrain from double-checking. "Are you sure about that?"

Shrugging again, the addressed nodded immediately. "Yeah, I'm sure. It's a relatively small sacrifice if you keep in mind what I've deprived you off."

So that was what this was about again.

Sighing, he put the pen down. "Blair, we've talked about this. I don't want you to sacrifice anything in order to make up for it or whatever else you'd like to call it. I don't need that."

"I know." The brunette replied innocently, tilting her head to the side. "That's why I didn't just go over your head with this decision but simply made it an offer."

"Well," Dan mimicked her, "I can't say I don't like the sound of it."

"Then maybe you should take it." Blair grinned, wiggling her brows.

"Maybe." He couldn't help but agree. "I don't know, I'm just not quite comfortable with it. Perhaps she'd rather have the same name as her mother."

Blair shook her head. "No, she adores you."

"She adores you as well." He easily retorted.

"Then what do you suggest we do? _Ask her?_"

"Maybe we should."

This time, Blair wasn't quite comfortable.

"I don't know." She frowned. "Choosing between her parents is a lot of pressure for a child. Besides, she probably wouldn't and thus end up with a horribly sounding hyphenated name. Humphrey-Waldorf sounds like something they'd name a medical syndrome or a breakthrough discovery in physics."

"In other words, awful." Dan agreed. "But Waldorf-Humphrey isn't quite as bad, don't you think?"

Blair grimaced. "Maybe not as bad but it's still _bad_."

"_Bad_ is a harsh word." Dan noted sarcastically. "_'Not good'_ is a lot more fitting."

Shaking her head, the brunette ran her fingers through her hair.  
Wasn't Humphrey just a hopeless case? Of course he wouldn't just accept the offer.  
No, they could never take the easy way. They both were hopeless cases.

"Maybe we should just wait a little longer." She finally proposed. "Take some more time to think this over, see how everything goes - I mean, we're in no real rush, right?"

"Right, I guess not." He didn't even dare to interpret anything into her choice of words anymore - but '_seeing how everything goes_' sure left room for interpretation, didn't it?

Luckily, he didn't get a chance to be foolish and inquire - saved by the ring of Blair's phone which had been abandoned at the other side of the table. Reaching for it, the woman rolled her eyes a mere second after she caught a glimpse of the screen.

"Oh, mother, why can't you ever leave me alone?" She muttered to herself as she declined the call - by far not for the first time this week.

Dan witnessed her exasperated annoyance in amusement. "I take it your relationship is still a little... _strained_ at times?"

"A little is an understatement." Blair nearly whined. "That woman is simply impossible. Most of the time, she either wants me to come home to attend some dinner party she is throwing for some investors - preferably with Cynthia in tow - or to come to Paris to help her with a collection and to meet investors for lunch - also with Cynthia in tow. Telling her no nine times out of ten is becoming far too exhausting."

"Are you ever going to tell her about how this, uh... _situation_ has changed?" He asked carefully, already prepared for backlash.

Unnecessarily so.

Though she remained quiet for a moment, Blair eventually shrugged. "Once I'm actually willing to talk to her at all." She decided nonchalantly.

* * *

Upstairs, Vanessa had received a more or less thorough tour of Cynthia's room that soon enough made it clear showing off her possessions wasn't the sole reason why she had been invited up here. Instead, the girl was to make it very clear who was her mother, boldly flaunting her scheming ways.

"You're still helping me, right?" Cynthia asked, dramatically turning to face the woman. "Because I feel like I'm stuck."

"Yeah, of course I am." Vanessa reassured her. Yesterday, she really hadn't just claimed something to satisfy the child. Playing cupid sounded like it could be fun, especially if she got to set up her best friend and thereby create a happy little family. "Why do you think you're stuck?"

She could imagine why. Cynthia's parents were nearly trying too hard to be nothing more than friends - and making that very clear as well.

"Because nothing seems to work anymore. There's no progress." The girl pouted. "The only thing that's happened so far is my mom acting weird and I'm not sure if that's good, I just hope so."

Pondering for a moment, Vanessa smiled at her, taking a seat on her bed.

"I think you don't just have to hope. I'm pretty sure it's a good thing." She informed her, wiggling her brows.

"Yeah?" Cynthia's brows knit instead as she sat down beside her. "And why?"

"I think something happened yesterday, when we were getting ice cream." Vanessa grinned conspicuously. "Something that'll work in our favour. They're getting there. Just keep it up."

"Sure." The girl nodded excitedly. "If you think it's really working…"

"It is, it just takes time." Vanessa assured her again. "Hey, theoretically, could you call me?"

"Whenever I want to." Cynthia chirped triumphantly. Making unsupervised phone calls in secrecy could easily considered be one of her favourite hobbies.

"Great. I'll give you my number. Keep me updated." Scribbling her cell number onto an old bill she found in her purse, the woman struggled not to laugh. Was she really plotting with a four-year-old? She sure was and thus far, she was loving it. "And tell me if you need me to help you in any way. We'll get them together, you'll see.


End file.
